Saving Albion
by pumpkinmoose22
Summary: The first step towards Albion in the modern age is about to commence but evil can no longer stand by in the shadows. Harry, Ron, and Hermione must travel to the past to save their friends from a fate Destiny never wished them to have. Can they reunite and save Camelot or is the past and future doomed forever? Find out in the final story of the Loss and Light trilogy!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! I'm back! :) This story might be a little slower going than the others because of personal life stuffs but I'm determined (as I always am) to see it reach its eventual completion. That being said, I've got everything mapped out so now I just have to string everything together. :) Welcome back to my long time fans and anyone new, hello and welcome! I hope you all enjoy the next installment of my favorite crossover. This one's a short teaser but more is sure to come! Please review!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

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Prologue

The occasional pop of a dying fire coated the living room with an amber glow, the occupant of the home residing in a tall armchair near the fireplace. His pale fingers were clasped together, resting against a prominent frown as his eyes stared unseeingly into the embers of the hearth. While his body remained still, his mind whirled with thoughts and his spirit with anger. Mordred Vlahos was stuck in another time, caught up in memories of tragedy and heartbreak.

It had been five years since his beloved Kara had been taken from him. Mordred remembered the day with vivid clarity. It was late December, the weather filling the world with ice and snow. Having graduated from Durmstrang Institute earlier in the spring, he and his new fiancée had decided to take a small vacation to France to celebrate their engagement. But it was in the outskirts of Paris that Kara met her end.

She'd gone out to get some bread from the bakery across the street when three muggles dragged her into an alley and preceded to drug, defile, and murder her. Mordred, having become worried, stumbled upon the scene just in time to see one of the men plunging his dagger into his beloved's heart. The young wizard lost all sense of control and his magic reacted instinctively, killing all three offenders on sight. It brought him no comfort however, for his Kara was gone, lost to him forever. Two weeks later he read the paper declaring the return of the Legendary Merlin and King Arthur and memories of his past were restored.

The pain and anger from centuries ago reentered Mordred's soul like a cancer, plaguing his every thought. He became livid when reading of Arthur and Merlin's intent to break the Statute of Secrecy and reveal the magical world to the muggles. How could they even consider doing something so foolish? Those monsters would never understand wizard kind! They'd killed Kara and he wouldn't be surprised if another Purge was started when such a revelation was unveiled. He had to stop it!

So, in his anger, he'd tried to put forth a threat by magically breaking into the British Museum and creating a wound on the display of a Camelot knight. To his dismay, it hadn't been taken seriously and Mordred, realizing that defacing property wasn't going to be enough, decided to retreat to the shadows to plan.

Five years had passed since then and the former druid's patience was finally beginning to reward him. He'd spent a great deal of time searching for Clarent, the sword that had caused King Arthur's eventual demise; he'd found it in the attic of some old widow who bought it from an antique shop. He was pleased to see that despite the small chip on one side, the blade was in remarkable condition. The reason he'd dedicated so many years to the search was because, due to rebirth, his magic was no longer strong enough to fight against Merlin on his own and part of his plan involved confronting the mighty warlock. But before that altercation could transpire, he had to complete one last task.

"Soon, Merlin," he whispered allowed. "Soon I will have what I need to right the wrongs you have committed. All will be as it should have been from the beginning and your foolish dreams will no longer threaten to poison this world. I will have my revenge!"


	2. Chapter 2

**(Warning! Small spoiler of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them contained in chapter)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

 **Enjoy! :D**

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Chapter 01

Harry's heart pumped fiercely against his ribcage, his lungs heaving for air as he sprinted down the hall leading to the Department of Mysteries. His new trainee, Benedict Graves, followed in his shadow until they stopped outside the door. Three other Auror teams were with them.

"Right," Harry gasped, clutching his wand, "I need you all to promise me that no matter what you see, you'll stay right behind me."

Ben's bright blue eyes were full of silent determination as he nodded in consent. "Lead the way, boss."

Harry smiled at the nickname before facing the door and throwing it open. Forcing memories of the past aside, the Auror pressed forward into the circular room. Having been fully prepared for the spinning that was sure to follow once someone shut the door behind them, Harry was rather surprised to see every other door was open, revealing several rooms he recognized – including the one where he'd lost Sirius.

His eyes narrowed. "Something's not right."

"What do you mean?" Angela Willow, an Auror who'd completed training shortly before him, whispered.

"These doors, they're supposed to be shut and the room is supposed to spin," he muttered while cautiously moving towards the door of the Brain Room. "Come on."

The others followed him, their wands raised on high alert. Searching for an intruder in the Department of Mysteries was the last thing Harry had been expecting to do when he'd come in to work this morning. He suspected that he'd been chosen to head the mission because he was the only Auror – besides Ron – who had any previous experience with the place. Too bad Ron had the day off; Harry could've really used his help. He didn't dare divide the group since he alone knew some of the dangers they could encounter if left to their own devices.

"Look for any form of concealment spell," Greg Jackson, an Auror three years Harry's senior, muttered from the back of the group.

"Are those… _brains?"_ Sarah Danvers, a new recruit, asked.

"Yep," Harry answered without glancing at the tank, "And unless you want to end up suffocating in brain tentacles, don't touch them."

There was an unconscious shift as the others stayed as far away from the tank as possible. Several doors lined the room and Harry took the one nearest to his right, pushing it open and stepping into darkness. Disoriented, he tried lighting his wand but the lumos spell didn't work. Ben slammed unexpectedly into his back, propelling him forward.

"Sorry!" he apologized. "Harry? Where are you?"

"I'm here!"

"Potter, what _is_ this?"

"I don't know; I've never been in this room. The lumos spell doesn't seem to work so everyone follow the sound of my voice, alright? I'm just going to walk forward until we see something. Look for a door if you can."

He felt Ben take hold of the back of his robes as he shuffled his feet warily across the solid floor. Just when he was about to go crazy from the darkness, Harry's eyes adjusted and he saw small specks of light.

"Are these... stars?" Jackson asked somewhere behind him.

Harry suddenly remembered the last time he was here Luna had mentioned a room filled with the planets. To save Ginny she'd used a Reducto curse to blow up Pluto in a Death Eater's face. How on earth had they found the door to get out of here? The intruder could be lurking anywhere in this room! Frustrated, Harry picked up the pace, nearing a star that grew brighter and brighter until they were passing a miniature version of Mars.

"I think I see a door!" Danvers exclaimed.

"Where?"

"Over there – to the right!"

Harry hoped that Danvers' right was also his as he tried to find the door she spoke of. Sure enough, a small rectangular opening stood glittering in the distance. The young Auror hastened towards it, the others shuffling hurriedly along behind him. It was a welcome relief when Harry crossed over a threshold leading him into the Time Room. The place wasn't as grand as it used to be but, in the seven years since its destruction, several new clocks displaying the steady stream of Time lined the walls. A table holding broken time turners ran the length of the room, various tools scattered throughout the metal mess. What caught Harry's attention was the cabinet in the far corner, its glass doors sprung wide open. He unconsciously tightened the grip on his wand, his instincts kicking in. Someone had been here recently and it hadn't been the ministry workers.

"Wow," Tristan Gray – Danvers' partner – declared as the others stepped out of the darkness into the glittering room, "What _is_ this?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Jackson teased. "These are time turners."

"You mean they _were_ ," Ben pointed out as he picked up an empty hour glass.

"Merlin's been helping a lot down here to restore everything the Death Eaters destroyed," Harry muttered, eyeing the nearest clock that was repeatedly showing the progression of a caterpillar changing into a butterfly.

"Didn't you help with that destruction?" Gray grinned.

Harry scowled. "A little," he admitted. "Anyway, Merlin told me last week that for the first time in years, he and the time workers were successful in completing a time turner."

"Over there!" Ben shouted, interrupting the conversation. A dark cloaked figure lurking in a doorway sprinted past, hastening to escape.

"Come on!" Harry cried, leaping over the table and scattering broken hour glasses and metal pieces onto the floor.

Reaching the doorway, the chase led him into a room he never thought he'd have to set foot in again. The large stone chamber was empty and foreboding, the air cold and harsh. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he tripped as he caught sight of the decrepit archway that had unceremoniously taken his Godfather from him. The thin veil fluttered and the soft murmuring of voices filled his ears.

"Shut up!" he growled, shaking his head and forcing himself to look away from the veil towards the intruder that was halfway up the stairs leading to another exit.

Harry sent a silent stunning spell but his prey blocked it with a wave of their wand. From the build, Harry deduced that the trespasser was male, possibly in his early twenties from the stamina in which he moved. The man was covered from head to toe in black, the hood on his head staying in place from a spell, no doubt. Harry caught the slightest glimmer of gold in his hands, confirming that he'd stolen a time turner. Cursing under his breath, the Auror picked up the pace, mounting the steps two at a time.

"Stop!" he shouted in the doorway of some kind of office, the intruder already on the other side.

Naturally the vagrant didn't listen. Harry reached the blue-lit circular room on the other side of the office and skidded to a halt. He could just make out the satisfied smirk of his quarry as he stood in the doorway that would take him to the lift leading to the Atrium. Harry stiffened in dread as the man stepped backward and mercilessly slammed the door shut.

"NO!" Harry cried, realizing too late that the other doors were closed too.

The room began to tilt and spin, the blue candles blending into streaks that burned his retinas. When the room finally solidified, Harry ran toward a door, praying it was the right one. Thrusting it open, he was disappointed as it revealed a chamber filled with useless junk. Slamming his fist angrily against the solid surface of the door, Harry cursed aloud. Another door sprung open to his right and his comrades spilled into the circular space.

"Potter! What happened?" Jackson demanded, looking around with his wand raised.

"He got away, that's what happened!" Harry snapped.

"What?! Why did you feel the need to take him on alone?" Lillian Crew, another Auror two years his senior, angrily scowled. "If you'd waited for us, we could have stopped him!"

" _He_ wasn't about to wait for the rest of you!" Harry defended. "And don't shut that, Ben, or we may end up being trapped down here forever!"

Ben immediately stilled, stopping the door behind him from closing. "Sorry."

"Perhaps we should alert the next team?" Gray suggested.

Harry sighed. "What good would it do? The man we're looking for could easily have disguised himself before he even left the lift. While the next team in the Atrium would be looking for a man in black, the intruder could easily be wearing a bright red cloak."

"Do you honestly think they would remember to change their clothes in such a hurry?" Danvers asked skeptically.

Harry scowled and the young witch's smirk disappeared. "Whoever they were, they were competent enough to break into the Ministry undetected, steal something from the Department of Mysteries, and avoid four teams of Aurors. I have no doubt that they would remember the small details, Sarah."

Her cheeks now red, Danvers agreed with a stiff nod. "Alright; what do you suggest we do next, Potter?"

Harry sighed. "We need to get out of here and report this to the Minister."

"Did you see what he stole then?" asked Willow.

Harry nodded. "It was the time turner."

"You're sure?" Jackson pressed, "The same one Merlin and the time workers just made?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Harry groaned. "And whoever they are, if they know how to use it, we're in deep trouble."

The Aurors shared worried looks.

"What do you think they'll do?" asked Danvers quietly.

"Nothing good," Harry murmured. "Come on; we need to get out of here."

It took some maneuvering, but after five tries they finally found the right door. Feeling like an utter failure, Harry led the wary procession towards the lift.

This day hadn't turned out how he'd expected it at all; not one bit.

[][][]

"You know, when I was told we were going to Arizona, I thought we'd see more sun."

"Stop complaining, Gwaine!" Arthur shouted as the two dived out of the way from the raging creature currently charging straight toward them.

The call had come in yesterday. Arthur and his team were a special division of the Department of Hit Witches and Wizards at the Ministry of Magic. They were only summoned for stealth missions and, though small, they were usually highly dangerous. Why else would the magical governments around the world ask the most powerful warlock of all time to get rid of a problem? True, though Merlin was the one they asked, the warlock made it clear that Arthur was the head of the group and adamantly stated if the job was to be done, the King alone would be the one to lead it. For five years the reincarnated Knights of Camelot had followed their King and his warlock to various parts of the world to disarm foes ranging from magical beasts to dark sorcerers. Today just happened to be a magical beast; a magical beast that Gwaine had just royally ticked off.

"Where the heck did Merlin go anyway?" Arthur growled as he rolled back to his feet with Excalibur in hand. Spotting a tunnel made of tires, he leapt over it, Gwaine and Lancelot following him.

"He said he had to go get a friend," Lancelot answered between heavy breaths.

"It's doubling back," Gwaine warned.

"Only because you had to be an idiot and throw a rock at its eye!" Elyan hissed, crouching behind a giant tic-tac-toe board three feet away.

"Quiet!" Arthur demanded as he peeked over the tire tunnel.

While they were on the northern side of the park, Leon and Percival had taken refuge in the remaining eastern parts of a now half destroyed wooden castle. The graphorn, as Merlin called it, was a terrible beast the size of an elephant with a muscular body that acted as a perfect bulldozer, razing everything in its path to the ground. They were usually found in the mountains of Europe which made Arthur wonder how in the world this one ended up terrorizing a small town in America.

The MACUSA certainly didn't have the answer. The only information they could give was that their usual spells, for some unknown reason, had failed to contain it. Wondering if Old Magic would work, they requested Arthur's team to eradicate the problem. Never one to opt out of a mission to save lives and restore balance, Arthur and his men accepted the challenge; the king just hadn't counted on Merlin disappearing right after they'd seen what they were up against.

Despite Merlin's vanishing act, Arthur took charge and set to work trying to lure the graphorn away from the homes it was trying to decimate. After some maneuvering, shouts - and a poorly aimed rock in the eye - the knights had managed to anger the beast enough to chase them. Now it was demolishing the local playground where they had taken refuge.

The graphorn, misjudging where Gwaine was hiding, rammed the crown of its tentacled head into a tower Leon had been crouching behind. The agile knight just barely managed to roll out of the way, regaining his footing in a manner of seconds to seek out a new hiding place by one of the plastic slides.

"What a mess!" someone suddenly tutted behind the king. "You know, if this were your kingdom, I fear it would be a lost cause."

Arthur whirled around to see Merlin standing next to an elderly gentleman with short silver curls and hazel eyes. Though old, the man carried himself quite well, his posture straight and his gangly limbs firm. Lines of wisdom and happiness were edged into his face and his eyes lit up when they spotted the graphorn.

"Merlin, who is this?" Arthur demanded.

"This is –"

"– no time," the older man interrupted. Surprising everyone present, he leapt over the tire tunnel with remarkable energy and ran out into the open.

"What is he doing?" Lancelot cried in concern.

The old man cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a strange yowling call. The graphorn immediately stopped its attempts to further destroy the wooden castle and twisted around to face the new comer. The old man let out the call again and to Arthur's shock, the creature responded. Rearing on its hind legs, the graphorn let out a mighty roar before cantering towards where the man stood. The knights watched in disbelief as the graphorn stopped in front of him and embraced his face with its tentacles.

"Unbelievable," Gwaine muttered in awe.

"Merlin, who is that?" Arthur asked, just as shocked.

"That, Arthur, is Newt Scamander, a dear friend and confidant of mine," Merlin grinned, laughing as Newt tried unsuccessfully to bat some of the graphorn's tentacles away from his face.

The knights sheathed their swords and followed Merlin as he casually made his way towards the towering beast and his old friend. Now that it was calm, Arthur felt more reassured that it was okay to get close to the thing.

"How did you do that?" Percival wondered.

Newt chuckled. "When you've been dealing with magical creatures as long as I have, young man, it's not difficult to know how to calm them."

"Newt is a Magizoologist – someone who studies magical creatures," Merlin explained. "The second I saw the graphorn I knew he could help. Newt's the best Magizoologist in the field and his book, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, is a standard work in magic schools."

"I don't know if I'm the best," Newt protested, "there are many Magizoologists, you know."

"Yes, but none of them are as good as you," Merlin stated. "And I can say that because you are the only person -besides me- that can completely communicate with creatures of magic. They even listen to you more than me sometimes!"

"That was only one time with the sphinx in Egypt and it doesn't count," Newt retorted. "It was luck alone that saved us."

"Yeah right," Merlin laughed. "I'm horrible at riddles – always have been – but even when you guessed wrong the sphinx let us go. She fancied you!"

"She knew you were Emrys," Newt countered, "that's why we got away."

Arthur stared at the two and felt something he dangerously suspected to be jealousy starting to erupt in his chest. In all five years of being in the magical world, the reincarnated king had never seen Merlin interact with a modern day wizard like he currently was with Newt Scamander. They were comfortable around each other, as if there were no secrets between them. Arthur found himself wondering just how close the two were and how many adventures they had experienced... together... without him...

Annoyed, Arthur cleared his throat and interrupted the wizards before they could further reminisce. "Yes, well, this is all fine and good but we do have a creature to take care of and an entire town to fix." He stared pointedly at Merlin and the warlock scowled.

"I can take care of the graphorn," Newt offered pleasantly, his hand currently rubbing the contented beast's forehead.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asked.

Newt grinned. "Don't deny me this, old friend. I hardly get to play with the big beasts anymore; Tina says I'm too old."

Arthur's jealousy spiked further. _'Old friend'?_ That was a term only _he_ used for Merlin! No one else had known him long enough to earn the right to call him that! Trying to hide his hurt, the king spoke with petulance, again demanding Merlin to start working on the town and leave the graphorn to the old wizard.

The warlock once again directed a scowl at his king. "There's no need to be such a prat about it, Arthur," he griped. "I'll have the town fixed up in two seconds flat." Turning his back on the king, he bid goodbye to Newt with a fond smile. "Take care, my friend."

Newt clasped his hand. "I will, Merlin. I'm glad your... _probation_ is over."

Merlin laughed. "Me too."

What was _that_ supposed to mean? Arthur shared a confused look with Leon to which the older knight simply shrugged.

After shaking Merlin's hand, Newt pulled out a small box from his deep blue robes and opened the lid. The knights watched with dropped jaws as the graphorn was sucked into the tiny opening like a hose removing water from a pool. Replacing the lid, Newt grinned cheekily at Merlin who shook his head with an amused smile.

"You know, those kinds of spells are illegal now."

Newt shrugged. "What the ministry doesn't know won't hurt them. Besides, it's the most comfortable way for such large creatures to travel."

Merlin laughed. "Don't tell me that box has replaced your old case!"

The Magizoologist scratched the back of his head with the point of his wand. "It might have," he admitted, "but you can't blame me."

"As long as you don't cause another stir like the one in the twenties I'll turn a blind eye," Merlin promised.

"I didn't start that," Newt defended, "and if it hadn't been for Frank then the whole world would have known about our kind."

Merlin glanced at Arthur who was rather confused as well as annoyed. The warlock sent him an apologetic smile before turning back to his friend and clasping his shoulder. "The world wasn't ready then – but it is ready now."

Newt's eyes widened. "So it's true? You really intend to get rid of the Statute of Secrecy?"

Having not followed the conversation until now, Arthur stepped forward. "That's the reason why we've returned – but we can't continue that course until this town is cleaned up _, Mer_ lin."

Merlin's eyebrows drew together, a silent question in his eyes. Arthur felt the familiar nudge and begrudgingly opened the mental doorway they shared.

 _Are you mad at me?_

 _Just fix the town, Merlin._

 _You are. What did I do?_

 _Nothing!_

Arthur closed the communication and looked away, his cheeks turning slightly pink. What was wrong with him?! He was thirty years old! There was no reason for him to be jealous of Merlin's relationship with other wizards. He was entitled to having friends besides himself and the knights. He'd been around for hundreds of years. Newt was obviously someone who shared quite a bit of history with him and Arthur would be a complete prat if he didn't allow Merlin to enjoy the company of others. Sighing, the king shook his head in an attempt to clear it. Someone coughed and he looked up to see Newt standing there with his hand outstretched.

"Um, it was nice to meet you, King Arthur," he said with a sudden shyness. "I'm glad you're here now."

"Uh, yeah, me too," Arthur muttered, awkwardly shaking the Magizoologist's hand. "You'll see to it that the creature gets back to where it belongs?"

"You can count on me," Newt smiled.

Inclining his head to Merlin one more time, the old man twisted on his heel and disappeared with a _crack!_

Merlin immediately turned back to Arthur. "Alright, what's wrong?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Nothing. Fix the town, you idiot."

Merlin studied him a moment more before giving in, his eyes flashing gold. The ruined planks of wood scattered throughout the playground sprung up from the sand and snapped back into place, the nails and bolts securing the structure into the castle it once was. Metal bars and chains leapt into the air and whirled around, welding together into the swing set they had originally been. Sounds in the distance indicated that the homes the graphorn had demolished were being rebuilt and, judging by the shouts, Merlin wasn't being at all discreet with his magic.

The warlock and king had decided long ago that they were not going to be responsible for obliterating anyone's mind. If the magical governments still wanted to go in that direction, then so be it, but it wouldn't be by the king's command. Creating Albion was proving to be a very slow process but, after countless meetings and disagreements, it had finally been arranged for muggleborn siblings and squibs to attend Hogwarts this coming school year as a trial run to see whether muggles and wizards could work together. As a result of change in student attendance, there were several new courses Hogwarts would now offer, such as arithmetic, writing, muggle history, and foreign languages. Merlin and Arthur had selected a few adult muggles – those who had a sibling with magic – as well as a couple of squibs to teach the new classes. Both warlock and king had high hopes that the changes would be a success; Destiny was on their side, after all.

"Looks like everything's back to normal," Lancelot commented, pulling Arthur away from his inner musings.

"Good," Gwaine muttered as he stretched, "because I have a date with a tankard of firewhiskey at the Three Broomsticks in a couple minutes. Any of you lads want to join in?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Gwaine," said Percival.

"Why not?"

"Because the last time you went, you drank all their ale and Madam Rosmerta threatened to ban you from the pub," Elyan answered.

"That's why it would be good for all of you to come with me," Gwaine reasoned, "There's more ale to go around and I can't take all the blame!"

The others chuckled in exasperation.

"I suppose we could join you," Percival said, speaking for himself as well as Elyan and Lancelot.

"I can stay for a little while," said Leon. "Juliana and Kayley want to go to the park while the sun is still up."

"I still can't believe you had a wife and daughter for three years without telling us," Gwaine complained.

"We were sort of busy rescuing Merlin at the time, Gwaine," Leon defended though he was grinning.

"Thanks for that," Merlin smiled, still grateful to them for putting their lives on hold to save his own five years ago.

"Anytime, mate," Lancelot stated.

"So, would you and Arthur like to join us for a pint?" asked Gwaine.

"You know my answer," Merlin immediately frowned. "I'm never setting foot in a pub with you again, Gwaine."

The rogue knight wiggled his eyebrows. "Come on, Merlin, just because you changed that old wench's hair to be green with pink polka dots and asked her to marry you doesn't mean it's going to happen again."

The warlock groaned from the memory. "Out of the question, Gwaine."

"Fine, mate, suit yourself," he sighed in mock defeat. "How about you then, Arthur?"

Arthur was about to answer when his cell phone went off. "Hello?"

"Arthur?"

"Guinevere?"

"How are things in Arizona?"

"We just finished. What's up?"

"We just got a letter from Kingsley. He says he needs to speak with you and Merlin right away."

Arthur looked at Merlin with a silent frown. "Alright. We'll head there right after we drop the knights off at the Three Broomsticks."

"Okay. Love you."

Arthur unconsciously smiled. "I love you too."

"Is that daddy? Tell him I said hi!"

Arthur's smile grew as he heard the young voice of his son, Alexander, practically shouting into the receiver followed by Guinevere's strained laughter. "Did you hear that or do I need to repeat it?" she asked.

"I heard," Arthur chuckled. "Tell him I'll be home soon."

"Alright. See you then."

"Bye."

Arthur hung up and slipped his phone into his back pocket.

"I take it something's happened?" Merlin sighed, frowning.

Arthur nodded. "Kingsley wants to see us."

"Then we'd best be on our way," Merlin muttered.

The small group gathered together in their usual circle and the warlock's magic enveloped them in its familiar warm embrace.

The dark morning of Arizona slowly transitioned into the sun shining down upon them, its position indicating it was ten o'clock in the European sky. The desert shrubbery had been replaced with thick pines and the park traded out for the cheerful village of Hogsmeade in the summertime. Besides dragon riding, this was Arthur's preferred way to travel. Merlin called it Channeling since he was basically traveling through the natural magic channels running throughout the earth to get from one place to the other. While he could cover many leagues this way, the warlock still needed power stones when it came to jumping from one continent to the next.

"Looks like you'll need to recharge them," Leon said as Merlin looked at the now dull power stones in his hands.

"Yeah but it'll have to wait 'til later – try not to let Gwaine drink all the firewhiskey again."

"Please," Arthur agreed. "I don't want to have to pay another one of Rosmerta's ridiculously high bills just because he's too much of an idiot to pace himself."

"I can pace myself just fine!" Gwaine defended, grinning widely. "I can hold more liquor than the lot of you and that's a fact."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you should achieve that fact every time we go out for a drink," Percival countered. "Now come on; _you_ might want some ale but I'm going for that signature steak they sell."

The other knights started following the two inside the pub but Arthur called Leon back. "Can you send an owl to the MACUSA letting them know we sorted everything?"

"Of course, sire," his First Knight replied before adding, "And I'll be sure to keep an eye on the others."

Arthur smiled. "Thank you. Come on then, Merlin; let's see what the Minister wants this time."

Merlin took Arthur's arm and the two Channeled to the Ministry's visitor entrance in downtown London. Arthur frowned as he recognized the old neighborhood and the red telephone booth.

"Why didn't you just magic us to the Atrium?" he asked though he already suspected what Merlin's answer was going to be.

"We need to talk," the warlock stated. "What happened back there with Newt?"

Arthur scowled, his suspicions confirmed. "Nothing happened, Merlin."

The warlock scoffed, "That's a load of bull and you know it, Arthur. Were you seriously jealous?"

The Future King turned away, burying his hands in the front pockets of his khakis. The warm summer air held a slight breeze, gently ruffling his loose red shirt sporting the Pendragon crest on the back; for the warmer weather, Merlin had made short-sleeved magical shirts to protect the knights when they went on their missions. Kicking a can with his foot, Arthur let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm just not used to it, that's all," he quietly confessed.

"Used to what?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" he snapped. Seeing Merlin's anticipation, the young king scowled. "I suppose I do?"

Merlin nodded, waiting.

Arthur ground his teeth together. The idiot always did this to him on purpose; acting the fool. He already knew what was bothering his king. The only reason Merlin forced him to say these things out loud was to help him transition into the old forty seven marshmallow king he used to be back in Camelot.

"Fine!" he snapped. "I'm not used to you being so comfortable around a modern day wizard! _Happy?"_

The corners of Merlin's mouth lifted a little as he nodded. "Are you?"

"No."

"Come on, Arthur, this is ridiculous. Newt is an old friend. If you must know, I met him during his travels after he left Hogwarts. He really does have a talent for understanding magical creatures. He was the first wizard that I naturally opened up to. I told him everything, who I really was, what my life was like, how I was endlessly waiting for you – everything. It was refreshing." Merlin paused, his gaze softening as his eyes were caught up in his past. "Newt is the first wizard I have come across who hasn't worshiped me after finding out who I really am."

Arthur sighed. "I'm glad he was there for you, Merlin. I truly am." He sighed again and scuffed his foot against the asphalt. "... I guess I'm just upset to see that the connection between you is so deep."

Merlin frowned before placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Arthur, no one is ever going to replace you. Newt is a great man and friend but he's not the other half of my coin. There's only one man who can hold that title and, hate to break it to you, but Newt doesn't possess enough prat-cells to hold it. Nobody does – except for someone called Arthur Pendragon. You may have heard of him."

Merlin's efforts were rewarded as a small smile climbed the king's face. "Prat-cells?"

Merlin shrugged. "Yep. I'm afraid your body is full of them, sire."

"And yours is full of idiocy. Come on; we've kept the Minister waiting long enough."

He made it halfway to the telephone box when Merlin called out, "Arthur?"

The king paused, turning around. "Yeah?"

"Are you alright now?"

The king rolled his eyes but he was smiling. "Yes, you idiot. Congratulations, you've made another step in turning me into a marshmallow again. Now come on."

Grinning from ear to ear, the warlock hastened after him.

[][][]

"Daddy!"

Arthur bent down on one knee just in time to wrap his son in a warm embrace. Alexander Merlin Pendragon was the spitting image of his father except his skin was darker like that of his mother's. The boy had a knack for adventure and was often found trying to explore parts of the castle he really shouldn't. Guinevere once found him hiding behind the mirror on the fourth floor containing one of the school's caved in secret tunnels. How he ever managed to find it was beyond anyone but Arthur was proud that his son could navigate the whole castle without getting lost at the mere age of four.

"It's good to see you, son," he smiled, setting Alexander down. "Have you been good today?"

Alexander nodded vigorously but his wide blue eyes betrayed him. Arthur raised a stern eyebrow and the boy deflated somewhat. "I only left her for a moment – but you can't blame, daddy - she follows me _everywhere!_ Not that I _don't_ like her, Uncle Merlin," he added a little sheepishly when he noticed the warlock.

Arthur started laughing while Merlin chuckled beside him. "Yes, well, people who are younger than you tend to follow you around."

"And I told him that the one place he should never attempt to leave her is in the kitchen but, of course, you can imagine my surprise when the house elves brought her to me. Poor Oriana was crying because 'Ally' left her behind again."

Arthur glanced up to see his beautiful wife, Guinevere, and Merlin's wife, Freya, walking towards them with large smiles on their faces. In Freya's arms was a two year old girl with black hair and stunning blue eyes. Merlin greeted his wife with a kiss before taking his daughter into his arms.

"Did Alexander leave you in the kitchens again?" he asked her.

Oriana nodded. "He always does," she mumbled. "I just wanted to play dragons with him."

Alexander groaned. "That's all she ever wants to play."

"Is not!"

"Is too!" Alexander stuck his tongue out at her.

"Alexander," Guinevere warned.

The young prince's eyes lowered as he mumbled out an apology. "Sorry."

"I've got an idea," said Merlin suddenly. "I was thinking about taking Oriana to see Aithusa down by the lake. Would you like to come, Alexander?"

The boy's eyes sparked with excitement and he jumped up and down, yanking on his father's arm. "Can I go, daddy? Can I?"

Arthur chuckled, ruffling his son's hair. "As long as it's okay with your mom."

Guinevere rolled her eyes, smiling. "Go on."

"Yes!" Alexander cried, rushing over and taking Merlin's hand. "Come on, Uncle Merlin! Let's go!"

Arthur sent him a grateful nod and the warlock returned it with a smile before leading the children outside into the sunshine.

"Your husband is a miracle worker, Freya," the Future Queen sighed while shaking her head. "I can't tell you how many times he's successfully distracted that boy."

"Well, he is the spitting image of his father," Freya laughed, "and if anyone has experience with how to handle Arthur, it's Merlin. Although he has told me that Alexander is far easier to deal with than 'the Prat'. His words, not mine."

Arthur briefly glanced heavenward. "You make it sound like I'm worse than a four year old!"

"Sometimes you can be, dear," Guinevere teased, kissing his cheek.

Arthur frowned but allowed himself to be steered by his wife into the Great Hall where lunch was soon to be served. The vast room's ceiling reflected the late summer sun, a few clouds drifting lazily in the sky. It was perfect flight weather and the king had a small suspicion that Merlin planned to do more with the children than just talk to the ancient dragon. He suddenly wished he'd gone with them; the stress relief would have been helpful after the news they'd just received.

"So what did the Minister want?" Guinevere asked as the three of them sat down at the Round Table.

The king let out a weary sigh, raking his hands over his face. "Apparently there was an intruder at the Ministry this morning. Harry led a group of Aurors down into the Department of Mysteries to catch them but the thief got away."

"What were they after?" asked Freya.

"A time turner," Arthur groaned. "Merlin wasn't at all thrilled over the news. I had to calm him down before his magic could manipulate the Ministry's fake weather into a hurricane. Having the first successful time turner stolen… it's definitely _not_ good. What Merlin failed to tell anyone was that he enhanced this time turner so instead of spinning it over and over to make it work, all you have to do is set the date and time in the little grooves on the edges and turn the hourglass once. He got the idea from the Time Summoner that brought your younger self to the future, Guinevere."

"What do you think the person will use it for?" the queen fearfully asked, alarmed by this newfound information.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know but, according to Merlin, altering even the slightest thing in the past could spell disaster for the future."

"But Harry and Hermione turned back time in their third year without ruining anything," Freya pointed out in an attempt to be positive.

"Their actions were noble but they did change the future," Arthur gently countered. "Sirius Black, Harry's Godfather, should have died that night but he lived for another two years and was able to help Harry and the Order in that time. But if he hadn't lived, someone else would have died during Harry's fifth year at the Department of Mysteries. We know that didn't happen but it could have. Time is a strange thing. Merlin was telling me a little about it. Most of it I didn't understand but I do know that messing with it always brings consequences."

"Is there a way for Merlin to track down the device?" asked Guinevere.

"No; that's what makes it frustrating!" The king suddenly shoved himself way from the table and started to pace. "Some lunatic has in their possession what could very well be the most detrimental item in the history of the world! I knew those idiots at the Ministry should have left the concept of messing with time alone! Merlin and I both had a bad feeling about it but would the Minister listen? No, of course not! Now a time turner is missing and no one knows where it is or where to even start looking for it!"

"Arthur, come back to the table and sit down," Guinevere advised. "You'll only give yourself more gray hairs if you continue to fret like this."

"I don't have any gray hairs!" Arthur argued but he did as he was bid.

"You will if your stress continues as it is," said Freya.

"I need some ale," the king complained. The words had no sooner past his lips than a goblet filled with rich brown liquid appeared on the table in front of him. "Thank you," he said to the floor before taking a deep swig.

Guinevere frowned her disapproval but didn't voice it. Instead she took Arthur's hand in her own and kissed it. "Until you have some sort of plan to go after the intruder my advice would be to focus on others things. The students will be appearing next week and there's enough going on here to demand your attention. You're going to have to meet with the professors tomorrow and go over the rules and regulations for the upcoming school year. There is much to be done."

Arthur sighed. "You're right, of course."

The conversation then changed to matters of the school and what to expect once the children had arrived. Freya and Guinevere led most of it while Arthur occasionally put in his two cents. But he was still distracted. The king just couldn't bring himself to banish his worries concerning the time turner. He had learned that Merlin's fears were never something to discount and the second Kingsley had told them it was stolen, the warlock had been positively frightened. It had been a long time since Arthur had seen him like that. A deep set of foreboding filled the king's breast and he feared something terrible was on the horizon.

 _How I hope I'm wrong_ , he inwardly mused as Merlin returned with the children just in time for lunch. _The last thing we need right now is for this school year to begin in disaster._

* * *

 **I know the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them references and cameo appearance of Newt Scamander (LOVE HIM!) were pretty obvious but did anyone catch the mention of The Quest for Camelot characters? :) (Disclaimer: I own neither movie but love them both)**

 **Leave a review! I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, Harry Potter, or the Three Musketeers.**

Chapter 02

The September air contained a light chill in the darkening sky over Hogsmeade village. Most of the folk in town were behind closed doors, enjoying their drinks or each other's company. A few witches and wizards trundled up the walk but only two were currently making their way towards the path leading to Hogwarts castle. Harry and Ginny Potter walked arm in arm, enjoying the evening and reminiscing about times past. They had been invited by King Arthur to attend the Start of Term Feast and the two were more than happy to accept the summons.

"Can you believe that this year there will be muggles studying at Hogwarts?" Ginny asked as they neared the protected boundaries of the castle.

Harry shook his head, his black hair falling a little over his round glasses. "It's mind-boggling. Arthur and Merlin have been working on this for years. It's the start to the change their desperately hoping to accomplish."

"I'm still amazed that Merlin worked out a way for technology to work alongside magic."

Harry had to agree. In the last five years Merlin had finally cracked the issues between the two powers though he wouldn't tell anyone how he did it and he only had the school set up to accommodate the anomaly; other wizarding establishments just weren't ready for that kind of change yet.

Since Hogwarts was now going to house both muggles and wizards, Arthur and Merlin felt it appropriate to require each student to possess a laptop computer solely for their studies; the computer had to be brand new. Along with this technology came the evolution of using printers though it would still be required for the children to write most of their class and homework on parchment with ink. The king and warlock wanted to implement both societies into one and felt that a general use of both parchment and printed paper was necessary for the progression.

To protect the school and Wizarding World from leaking onto the muggle internet, Merlin had created Mage-Fi, the equivelant to Wi-Fi in the nonmagical world. Mage-Fi was a special magical technology that filtered all the content that would be loaded on the students' computers, preventing children from exposing things to muggles that the Wizarding World was not yet ready to share. From what Harry understood, Mage-Fi kicked in the second the students technology passed through the school's wards and it only worked within Hogwarts; the second the technology was out of the protective barrier, all content relating to magic disappeared from the computer hard drive, blocked by a power only Merlin could decipher. The same kind of block would appear on any flash drives students brought with them. It was a fascinating process and, though he didn't fully comprehend how it all worked, Harry was a little jealous of the changes taking place in the school this year.

"Harry! Ginny!"

Harry looked up to see his two best friends, Ron and Hermione Weasley, waving enthusiastically by the entrance to the Hogwarts grounds. After exchanging pleasantries, the four friends held up their wands towards the castle's iron gates. A golden beam of magic flew out from the pillars and scanned the wands as well as the fingertips holding them. A moment later the gateway lit up in a flash of light, indicating for the visitors to step through the wards.

"Merlin's wards are obviously still set up to keep unwanted folks out," Ginny commented as they entered the Hogwarts grounds, "Like the paparazzi."

"It's pretty amazing what he's managed to do," Hermione agreed. "I can't think of anyone capable of breaking his code."

"Old magic trumps New, remember?" Ron grinned, repeating a saying Merlin had become rather fond of stating over the years.

The four of them laughed, Harry lightly shoving his friend. Ron playfully shoved back. In the distance the trees of the Forbidden Forest reached for the sky, the lake glittering in the light of the moon, while a few owls glided towards the magnificent stone structure once called Camelot. An unconscious smile lifted the corners of Harry's mouth as he gazed at the castle in fondness, lost in memories.

"Good to be back?" asked Ron.

Harry grinned. "Yeah."

Pushing open the double oak doors, the couples walked into the massive Entrance Hall, their ears immediately picking up the sound of hundreds of people coming from the Great Hall to their right.

"Do you think the feast has started yet?" asked Hermione.

"Probably," Harry answered. "We are a little late."

Stepping into the Hall, Harry's assumption was confirmed as students at all four house tables were engaged in the traditional Start of Term Feast hosted every September first. The different aromas attacked Harry's senses and his stomach growled in anticipation as his mouth watered. Across the room, King Arthur sat at the center of the Teacher's Table with Merlin on his right and Queen Guinevere on his left. Freya sat next to Merlin, holding their two year old daughter, Oriana, in her lap. Prince Alexander sat next to his mother, trying to prove that he was an adult even though his feet didn't touch the floor. The knights fanned out on either side of the royals - Leon's wife, Juliana, and ten year old daughter, Kayley, and Gwaine's wife, Morgana, among them - followed by the teachers. Prince Alexander saw Harry first, gaining the attention of his mother and pointing across the hall. Guinevere looked up and Harry waved at her. She smiled before whispering in Arthur's ear. The king grinned and muttered to Merlin who nodded before simply vanishing from his chair.

"Nice to see you, Harry."

Harry jumped, turning to the right to see Merlin standing there with a large grin on his face.

"Since when can you vanish like that?" Ron asked, holding his heart.

Merlin laughed. "Since I perfected Channeling, Ron. I can go anywhere in the world, simply fading away and reappearing wherever I wish – well, wherever there's a magical channel – but seeing as they're everywhere, I can go anywhere. Fun, huh?"

"That's slightly scary, you know," Hermione teased. "What if you stumbled upon a rather intimate moment between two lovers?"

Merlin blushed and Ginny smirked. "Don't tell me that's already happened?" she guessed.

"A couple of times – when I was first testing it out," Merlin admitted. The four laughed and the warlock soon joined them. "Anyway, Arthur wanted me to tell you that you can either sit with us or mingle with the students; whatever makes you feel comfortable."

"Too bad you didn't have that choice, huh?" Harry grinned.

Merlin sighed. "You know me too well, Harry. I'd rather be sitting in my tower enjoying the evening with my wife and daughter. But King Prat gives an order and I have to follow it. So, what'll it be? Suffer with us up front or enjoy the company of youngsters?"

"I think we'll suffer alongside you," Harry decided after sharing a glance with his wife. "You invited us here after all and it might be seen as disrespectful if we don't eat at the same table as the king."

Merlin grinned. "Meeting officials in other countries probably has something to do with that decision, I imagine?"

Harry nodded. "I had to learn quick that it's better to be polite than rude in such situations."

The warlock chuckled. "Indeed. Well, follow me then."

He led them around the edge of the room instead of down the center. This was a fairly smart move since it didn't draw too much attention to them. Nearing the table, Arthur caught Harry's eye and nodded to him in greeting. The Auror nodded back before sitting in the empty chair Merlin offered to him at the edge of the table next to Hagrid. The half giant was delighted to see the lot of them and they ended up spending the majority of the feast sharing tales of what they'd all been up to in their respective fields.

Half an hour passed and Harry was just about to finish his fifth piece of treacle fudge when the doors to the Great Hall burst open, the wood slamming against the stone walls with a _crash!_ All eyes turned to see a lone hooded figure slowly making their way into the room. King Arthur and the knights were on their feet in seconds, each drawing their swords. Merlin stood up too, his hand slightly raised in attack position. Harry discreetly pulled out his wand, the others mimicking him, his gaze locked on the stranger.

The intruder slowly removed his hood, revealing the face of a pale young man in his early twenties. Longer dark brown curls hovered near his stormy hazel eyes, accented by high cheekbones and a sturdy jaw line. His nose was thin and long, his full lips pulled up in an arrogant smirk. He carried himself in a way that professed some sense of nobility, reminding Harry a little of Draco Malfoy.

"Mordred," Merlin muttered, the whisper carrying throughout the hall.

"Hello, Merlin," Mordred sneered. "You're looking well for one that recently lost his immortality."

"What are you doing here?" Arthur demanded.

"I just came to pay my respects, Arthur," Mordred answered, presenting him with a mock bow, "And to put a stop to your foolish dreams."

Merlin's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Simply put, Albion was a _mistake!_ " Mordred spat. "And it is my destiny to make things right!"

He whipped something out of his pocket and Harry's heart stopped. It was the time turner! He wasn't the only one who was suddenly filled with fear.

"Mordred, stop!" Merlin commanded in a terrified shout.

The villain grinned. "Goodbye, Emrys!"

Merlin disappeared at the same time Mordred flipped the hourglass. The warlock reappeared right where the thief had been a second before. Realizing that he was too late, Merlin let out a frustrated bellow, his magic shattering every window in the Hall. Arthur swore, leaping over the table.

"Leon, organize the teachers and get the students to their respective common rooms – leave Merlin to me."

The king then ran down the narrow path between house tables towards the warlock, shouting his name. Harry turned to Ginny, his fear reflected in her eyes. While they stayed put, the hall erupted into chaos as teachers and knights worked on completing the king's orders.

"Does anyone know who that was supposed to be?" asked Ron nervously.

Unsurprisingly it was Hermione who gave them the brief history lesson. "His name is Mordred, Ron, and in all the legends he's a sworn enemy to both King Arthur and Merlin. He was the man responsible for nearly killing the king in the first Battle of Camlann. Though Arthur was severely wounded he was able to kill Mordred in the end. Morgana later used his sword to kill Arthur in the second battle held in the same place."

"What do you think he's going to do with the time turner?" asked Ginny fearfully.

Harry shook his head. "I have no idea. We can only hope that he doesn't do anything drastic."

"Fat chance of that if he hates Arthur and Merlin as much as Hermione says he does," Ron muttered.

Hermione sighed. "Come on; let's see if there's anything we can do to help."

They wandered down to where a small meeting was being held between Merlin, Arthur, and the knights. Guinevere, Juliana, and Freya had seen to their children, taking them from the hall to safety, but Morgana was found standing next to Sir Gwaine, her hand held tightly in his own. Gaius, Camelot's old Court Physician, was also present.

"How in the world did he even get in?" Arthur demanded.

"I don't know!" Merlin snapped, distracted. "The only way to get into Hogwarts at the moment is through the gate and that's only after your wand and your fingerprints match those programmed into the spell. The only people who currently have access to the castle are members of the Order."

"Then he must have used Old Magic," Morgana concluded.

"No," Merlin stated, "I would have felt it. He used the New to activate a shield around himself the moment he stepped into the Hall."

Arthur let out a frustrated sigh. "Leon, you, Gaius, and the knights split up and check every secret entrance into the castle. See if the magical barriers there have been tampered with. You know what to look for. Merlin, you and I are going out to look at the gate."

"Can we help?" asked Hermione.

Arthur smiled. "Sure. You can split off with one of the knights or come with us."

"I'll go with you two," Harry answered.

Ginny joined Sir Leon while Ron and Hermione decided to go off with Lancelot and Gaius. After promising to meet back in the Great Hall in an hour, the groups split up, Harry following Arthur and Merlin out of the castle and into the night. As they neared the front gates, Merlin suddenly gasped and stumbled. Arthur grabbed him before he could fall to the ground.

"What's wrong?" the king demanded.

"Dark magic," Merlin panted. "I haven't felt it this powerful since Voldemort."

Arthur scowled. "From who kicked down our front door, I'm not surprised. Come on."

Reaching the gate, the three of them stopped dead. The remains of what Harry finally identified as a body lay in the grass. It took a minute to decipher what it was because the insides were missing, from the muscles to the skeleton, like someone had gutted out everything but the outer skin. Arthur swore and looked away as Merlin doubled over, losing the contents of his stomach. Harry soon joined him.

"Who was it?" Harry asked as Arthur stepped closer to the remains.

"It's Dedalus Diggle," he reluctantly confirmed.

"He covered himself with Dedalus's skin and used it to get past the wards," Merlin whispered in disgust and horror. "This is magic of the blackest kind."

"I've seen something similar to this before," Harry muttered. "Voldemort took the corpse of Bathilda Bagshot to hide his snake inside it. It was horrifying."

"This is worse," Merlin stated. "Voldemort used her _entire_ corpse for an evil purpose but this... to rip off only the skin and use it as a covering… to use magic to defile another's body in such a way; this is _unforgivable._ When we find him, _Mordred will_ _pay for this!"_

Arthur nodded darkly in agreement. Harry took a step back from the pair and swallowed. The fire burning within Merlin was terrifying. The warlock almost seemed to glow, his fury was so palpable. The king's anger was also barely being contained, his entire body shaking with rage. The thirst for justice had lit his royal face with an inner fire, his lips pulled into a formidable scowl. The young Auror suddenly hoped that death found Mordred before Merlin and Arthur did, because if he were to face the warlock and king in this moment, their combined gaze would certainly turn him to ash.

"Let's go," Arthur murmured. "We need to tell the others what happened."

"I'll inform the Order," Harry offered. "So they can take care of Dedalus."

Arthur nodded in agreement as he and Merlin solemnly began to head back to the castle. Harry sent out a Patronus, sorrowing over the news he'd volunteered to give to his friends and comrades. He looked back at the remains of the old wizard and hung his head before following in the king and warlock's wake.

[][][]

The buzz of a very obnoxious alarm went off in Harry's head and the Auror jerked out of his dreams. Eyes still closed, he felt around the side of his bed until he found his wand on the side of his dresser. Waving it lazily, he silenced the alarm and rolled over, groaning. Someone lightly giggled and the Auror opened his eyes to see a fuzzy outline of his beautiful wife leaning against the bedroom door in a tank top and short shorts sporting the Holyhead Harpies. Ginny's hips swayed rhythmically back and forth as she sauntered over to his bedside before kissing him passionately on the lips.

"Good morning to you too," Harry grinned as she pulled away. "What's the occasion?"

"Does there need to be one?" she asked with a playful smile, her brown eyes twinkling.

"Not at all," Harry laughed before using his quick seeker reflexes to yank her onto the bed.

"Harry!" she weakly protested between giggles.

Rolling so he was on top of her, the Auror grinned wolfishly before kissing her lovely lips. Her hands snaked up into his messy black locks, her tongue invading his mouth. Harry tipped to his side, Ginny's leg wrapping around him in response, their bodies desperate to remove the space between them.

"You need to get ready for work," Ginny gasped as Harry's lips lingered near her collarbone.

He really didn't want to but he knew she was right. Sighing, he sat up and admired the love mark he'd successfully placed on her freckled skin. Ginny's cheeks were flushed, her brown eyes dark with longing. Smiling warmly, Harry bent down and gave her one last kiss before slipping off the bed and heading for the shower.

"You drive me crazy, Potter!" he heard her snap after him.

Harry chuckled as he stepped into the warm water and lathered his hair with soap. "I could come back, you know."

"Don't you dare!" she warned as she stepped into the bathroom to fix her hair. "I have practice and you need to get to work before the king sends one of his house elves to fetch you – like he did _last_ Monday," she added in slight exasperation. "Now _that_ was embarrassing…"

Harry frowned. "What are you talking about? Arthur didn't send anyone."

There was a slight pause before he heard her ask in confusion, "Who's Arthur?"

Harry poked his head out from around the shower curtain. "You're kidding, right?" Ginny's bemused eyebrow spoke otherwise. Harry quickly finished scrubbing the bubbles out of his hair and turned the water off before ripping the curtain aside. "The King of Camelot? The owner of Hogwarts? Merlin's best friend?"

Ginny's eyebrows rose further as did her confusion. "Who's Merlin? Emrys owns Hogwarts; everyone knows that. Harry, are you feeling alright?"

Harry was feeling something very similar to panic. His wife was completely serious. _She had no clue who Merlin was._ But Merlin was Emrys! And what was this about him owning Hogwarts? Harry looked up as Ginny's concerned gaze observed him, her lips pulled into a frown.

Trying to shake it off, he smiled at her and laughed. "I'm fine!"

Ginny's eyes narrowed. She could always tell when he was lying to her. "Are you sure?" she pressed.

Drying himself off, Harry nodded before kissing her, hoping that the physical affection would be enough of a distraction. "Positive," he stated.

To his dismay, she persisted. "But why did you bring up Camelot? You know the king has forbidden anyone ever mentioning it. I know you're his favorite but you need to be careful."

Harry was beyond confused now but he decided it was probably best to continue to play along. "You're right; I don't know what I was thinking. I need to get to work – don't want to be late."

He dressed as quickly as he could, attaching his leather holster to his wrist before slipping his wand into it. Ginny was sitting on the bed, having also changed into her practice robes, watching him intently. Harry tried to send her a comforting smile but the worry in her eyes only grew.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked again.

Harry pulled her up from the bed and wrapped her in a warm embrace. No, he was _not_ alright but he wasn't about to display his panic in front of her. The Ginny in his arms was his but she also _wasn't_. Something was wrong. She didn't know who Merlin or Arthur were yet she had mentioned something about Emrys and a king. And what was this about him being this king's favorite? He needed answers and he needed them fast! Maybe Hermione would know what was going on?

Kissing Ginny's forehead, he smiled down at her. "I'll see you tonight," he promised.

Despite the concern still lingering in her eyes, she gave him a warm smile. "Alright. I love you."

"I love you too."

Harry gave her another quick kiss before apparating away, forcing his body into the tiny tube sensation before popping into existence in the Ministry's Atrium – at least, he _thought_ that's where he'd gone. Harry's jaw hit the floor as he looked around at a foreign place.

The walls still held the various fireplaces for the floo network but the golden grills around them were missing. Instead, positioned between each fireplace was a suit of armor holding a banner of blue sporting a silver dragon. Harry instantly recognized the symbol as Merlin's; it was the one he wore when in his old Court Sorcerer attire.

"Did Kingsley give Merlin permission to redecorate?" he muttered aloud as he joined the throngs of witches and wizards heading to work.

"Sir Harry! Sir Harry!"

Harry blinked, staring in disbelief as a house elf strode towards him wearing a fine gray tunic with a dark blue sash. It wasn't the house elf's appearance that surprised him – nor was it the way he'd been addressed – no, what shocked him was the way people were respectfully stopping to allow the creature to pass.

The elf stopped and smiled up at Harry with big brown eyes. "The king asked me to escort you the moment you arrived."

"The king?" Harry wondered, dazed.

"Yes, sir," the elf said, the tuffs of his white hair bobbing as he nodded vigorously. "Come along then; best not to keep him waiting!"

Harry blinked a few times before following after the elf. As they went, people respectfully bowed their heads and muttered, "Sir Harry," before continuing on their way. Harry knew he was popular at the office but people rarely bowed to him – until now. And why in the world were they calling him 'Sir?'

The suits of armor continued to line the length of the room and in the middle of the vast expanse was a pool of water. A large rounded stone rested in the center where a very familiar- looking sword stood with its hilt reaching for the sky. Harry's jaw dropped. Why was Excalibur sitting in the middle of the Ministry's Atrium? Where was King Arthur?

"Harry!"

The Auror twisted around to see Hermione rushing up to him, panic in her eyes. "Hermione," he cried in sheer relief. "Can you tell me why–?"

"Sir Harry? I hate to be rude, but the king refuses to start the meeting without you and you are already rather late," his escort interrupted.

Harry was stunned. Never before had a house elf disrupted a conversation between a witch and a wizard. He didn't necessarily know how to respond.

"Go with him," Hermione urged. "There was an elf waiting for Ron too."

"What?"

"Go on," she insisted. "I'll find you when you're done."

"Okay," Harry muttered, confused as well as scared.

Hermione looked horrified, frazzled, and panicked. It was never a good sign when the brilliant witch lost her cool. She was usually the one who kept Harry and Ron from losing it.

"Come along, Sir Harry," the elf practically commanded, marching off without looking back to see if Harry were following.

"This is not normal," Harry muttered, shaking his head before chasing after the elf.

They reached the lift but the doors were silver instead of gold like he remembered. Harry jumped when several dragons shot out of the open doors, their tails carrying scrolls of rolled up parchment. The Auror couldn't help twisting around to watch them fly off to various parts of the Atrium. How could he not when they were made out of wood, magically animated to fly messages around the place?

"Sir Harry?"

"Right, sorry," Harry muttered, walking into the elevator while shaking his head. He nearly jumped again when a suit of armor moved in the corner to man the buttons, closing the doors before looking expectantly at him and the house elf.

"The King's Council Room, if you would, sir," the house elf ordered.

The empty helmet moved up and down in a firm nod before a vacant gloved hand pushed a button. Harry was unprepared when, instead of stopping at every level like the elevator he knew, the lift took them right to their designated floor. Blinking in surprise, he stepped out into a stone corridor lined with torches and various tapestries displaying beautiful nature scenes from around the world. More suits of armor were stationed every ten feet along the wall, their hands clasped firmly around their spears. Though there were no bodies, Harry felt like they were watching him. It was incredibly eerie and the only sound – being his shoes clipping across the stone floor – added to his unrest.

The house elf reached a pair of heavy wooden doors, knocking twice before using his magic to push them open. Harry's jaw slightly dropped as the doors revealed a vast room lined with stained glass windows and sturdy stone columns. Blue banners sporting the silver dragon hung from the ceiling and various iron candelabras lined the edges of the walls between even more suits of armor. Artificial light streamed through the windows, enriching different scenes of mountains, fields of endless grain, evergreen forests, coasts of various oceans, and ancient crumbing castles. In the middle of the room was a magnificent Round Table made of cherry wood and around the Table was a gathering of men and women looking expectantly in his direction.

Harry immediately recognized most of the faces of the Order of the Phoenix along with a few of the Aurors he'd trained with. But what shook him the most was the fact that standing next to Neville was his old Transfiguration teacher, Professor Minerva McGonagall. Not that he was unhappy to see her but she was supposed to be dead! She'd died protecting Morgana from Rodolphus Lestrange's killing curse.

Harry was shaken from his shock when a man he hardly recognized called out his name.

"Harry! It's about time you made an appearance. Did Ginny keep you again?"

Smiling at him on the far side of the table was Merlin – but this wasn't the Merlin he knew. The man addressing him had black hair, a youthful face covered in a tasteful amount of stubble, and eyes that held no twinkle. A deep, abiding sorrow radiated from his countenance, leaving a shadow in his wanting smile. He wore a blue robe over the top of a black dress shirt and slacks along with a light gray vest embroidered with dark gray dragons. A single silver ring with Celtic designs rested on his left middle finger, the only jewelry the apparent royal had chosen to wear; for Harry could see that Merlin was indeed the king everyone had been talking about. Not only were his clothes the finest in the room but he was sitting in the chair that Arthur normally would have occupied.

Realizing that Merlin was waiting for an answer, Harry cleared his throat and sheepishly smiled. "She might have been."

Several people chuckled knowingly. Merlin nodded before motioning him to take the seat at his immediate right. Surprised but unwilling to question how he'd earned such an honor, Harry walked around the table to the designated chair. Merlin sat down and the others followed suit. Harry finally noticed a very worried looking Ron sitting a few chairs down from him, nervously trying to catch his eye. Harry shrugged while biting his lip.

"Now that Harry's wife is no longer keeping him, let us begin," Merlin smiled, receiving a few chuckles from his comment. "Sir Kingsley, report."

 _Sir_ Kingsley? Harry looked up as the dark skinned Minister of Magic stood and proceeded to give an account of the Auror department. Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. Why wasn't Dorian giving this report?

"We've managed to catch most of the Shadow Dwellers but a few still remain elusive to us," Kingsley admitted with a nervous glance at the king. "We're putting all of our efforts into finding their last stronghold."

Merlin's brow was furrowed, his long fingers threaded together. "I hope you know that the longer they remain at large, the more potential there is for dark wizards to join their cause?"

Harry glanced at Merlin, surprised by the hardness of his tone. There was a silent challenge in that reminder as well as a warning. Merlin wanted the job taken care of and he wasn't pleased with how long it was taking to be done.

"Perhaps I should have Harry take over this mission?" he continued, his cold blue eyes fixated on the Head Auror.

Kingsley stiffened, his pride and honor seemingly wounded by the suggestion. "I am sure we can handle the situation, my lord."

"If you do not have these _hedge wizards_ removed from my society, I will do what needs to be done, Kingsley."

"But isn't Potter reserved for more… dangerous missions?" Alastor Moody, another apparently undead teacher, hesitantly protested.

Merlin's eyes flashed a moment and the lights in the stain glass windows dimmed. Everyone at the table flinched, feeling the power of Merlin's magic as his annoyance was manifest.

"Do you question me, Alastor?"

"No, sire," Alastor said quickly, apologetically. "I merely thought the Shadow Dwellers were minor annoyances you desired to be rid of."

"They were at first but since the demise of Voldemort and his Death Eaters they have slowly risen into a potential threat I can no longer ignore. If left unchecked, they will grow to be just as dangerous as Grindelwald and Voldemort. I want the job done, Kingsley. You have by the end of the month. If not, then Harry will take your team's place."

"Yes, sire," Kingsley bowed before sitting back down.

Harry could hardly believe the trust Merlin was showing him. He made it sound like he was some kind of one man army. These Shadow Dwellers seemed to be a formidable threat if Kingsley and the rest of the Aurors were having difficulties taking care of them. How was Harry supposed to do what they couldn't? He tried to send Kingsley an apologetic smile but the older wizard was staring at him in contempt. In fact, as Harry eyed the others at the table, he found that all of them appeared to be envious of him. Why were they looking at him like that? Even Tonks was staring at him in distain and she usually got along with everyone – except for dark wizards.

Wait – they didn't think _he_ was one, did they? From the looks on their faces it seemed like it. They didn't trust him. But Merlin did – and Ron. But that was probably because Ron, like him, didn't have a clue as to what was going on.

The meeting continued for another hour before Merlin brought things to a close. He was a strict ruler, setting deadlines for each of the Divisions the Council represented with an unspoken warning that punishments would be given to those who didn't make the cut. He was very tactful in his threats and treated everyone with respect, but the hard exterior and the false smiles made it so none dared contradict him. By the end of the meeting Harry deduced that the Ministry of Magic was now the Kingdom of Magic and that Merlin, who was never addressed as Merlin but King Emrys, had been its sole ruler since the days of his youth – indicating that he was still very much immortal.

"Harry, Ron, a word, if you would," Merlin said when the others started making their way towards the doors.

Harry and Ron shared terrified glances before wandering back towards the king. As they approached, the warlock used his magic to remove the Round Table and change the size of the room, the large expanse shrinking into a hall fit to hold up to fifty people. A throne carved out of oak appeared on a slightly raised dais that Merlin promptly sat in with a heavy sigh. The house elf that had escorted Harry earlier appeared with a crack, holding a goblet towards Merlin with a sympathetic smile on his wizened face.

"Thank you, Goggle," Merlin muttered, accepting the drink and downing it in one go.

"My lord should pace himself," the elf chided in disapproval.

Harry was sure Merlin was going to incinerate Goggle for the comment but the king's annoyed scowl transformed into a smile accompanied with a light chuckle that lacked its usual mirth.

"You're right, I suppose. That'll be all for now."

Goggle smirked before taking the goblet and descending into a low bow. It was the first Harry had seen him bestow to anyone and from the look on Merlin's face, the king did not approve of the action at all.

"Goggle," he complained.

"Even though he liberated Goggle's people, Goggle can still bow to his king if he wishes," the elf challenged.

Merlin's scowl deepened but eventually he dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Fine; you may go."

"Thank you, sire."

The elf then disappeared with a loud _crack!_ Harry shared another nervous glance with Ron before facing Merlin, who was staring at both of them with a calculating expression, his ancient blue eyes giving nothing away.

"Neither of you said anything at the meeting," he finally began.

"No… sire," Harry hesitantly answered, feeling rather strange calling Merlin by such a title.

"Strange, since your opinions usually dominate the council," Merlin continued. "I would have thought you'd have spoken up when Alastor challenged you, Harry, and, if not you, then Ron would have come to your defense – but neither of you spoke. Why?"

Harry swallowed painfully. "Merlin, we're not – that is –"

His attempts came to a crashing halt when the king leapt to his feet, his eyes narrowed and fire immediately shooting into his fingertips. "What did you call me?" he demanded in a deathly whisper.

Harry and Ron immediately backed away in alarm, their hands raised in surrender. Merlin stepped off the dais and stalked towards them, the light from the stained glass windows dimming as they had before.

" _What did you call me?!"_ he bellowed, his tone now holding a hint of fear.

"Merlin," Harry answered, proud that his reply hadn't come out as a squeak.

The king grew still as his eyes assessed the two men before him, a range of differing emotions flickering across his countenance: shock, anger, suppressed longing, and a sudden, hesitant hope.

"What did you call me?" he murmured, desperation seeping not only from his voice but his eyes.

"Merlin?" Ron repeated.

The king's eyes filled with unshed tears. "I gave up hope," he whispered, swallowing unsuccessfully as he suddenly started sobbing, dropping to his knees.

Harry looked to Ron, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. The red head shrugged, just as lost as his best friend. Harry had never seen Merlin this broken, not even when he came back from being held captive by Rodolphus Lestrange. The king was on his knees, his head bowed, his hands covering his bearded mouth as he cried uncontrollably.

"Um… Merlin?" Ron tried, hesitantly shuffling forward.

Merlin looked up and Harry gasped. A smile, a true smile, was on Merlin's face. His eyes, once devoid of life, had regained their twinkle. Newfound purpose seemed to be threading its way through his heart, stitching it back together, for the warlock's countenance began to shine with an inner happiness it hadn't held for what Harry suspected to be centuries. Leaping to his feet, he rushed forward and took both Harry and Ron by the shoulder. The two younger wizards, slightly terrified by the display, took a step back but Merlin's grip was firm.

"I never would have thought it would be you," he laughed giddily. "How is this possible though? Wait! Maybe you're from a different timeline, one that wasn't affected until now? That would make sense. Oh, but who cares?! The point is that you're _here!"_

"Merlin, we have no idea what you're even talking about!" Harry stated, gently removing Merlin's hand. "What is going on? Why are you king?"

The warlock frowned as he studied him. "There's supposed to be three of you."

"What?" asked Ron, looking at Merlin as if he were a complete nutter – which notion Harry was beginning to agree with.

"With Albion lost, Three Chosen shall rise, And Magic will guide them through Time's fractured tides. The Chosen Three will hope restore; The Future King shall reign once more!" Merlin recited. "There are supposed to be _three_ of you. Wait – is it Hermione? Does she know who I am?"

Harry looked to Ron who shrugged. "She probably knows. She's smart enough to figure out this" – he gestured around – "isn't right."

Harry nodded. "She told me she wanted to talk to me but Goggle forced me up here."

Merlin snapped his fingers, his eyes flashing gold. There was a shriek as a very disoriented Hermione magically appeared with a faint _pop!_ holding a book in her hands, her eyes wide with fear.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron cried in surprise.

The young witch looked around, relief evident on her face at the sight of her husband and best friend. "Harry, Ron! Where are we?"

Merlin cleared his throat, regaining their attention. "I'm sorry, Hermione, for bringing you here in such a rude manner. But I –"

"Merlin!" she interrupted, her eyes wide, "You have a beard! And what on earth are you wearing?"

The king stared at her in surprise before laughing joyfully. "It _is_ the three of you! I had suspected when you were younger but when you called me Emrys and Sire like everyone else, I thought I was wrong."

"What on earth are you going on about?" Ron asked, confused and angry now.

"I've been waiting for the Hope that would restore Albion for _centuries_ , Ronald," Merlin explained with a bone-weary sigh. "I've come across so many potential candidates – the most prominent being three gentlemen in the early sixteen hundreds, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis – but even they turned out not to be the ones prophesied by Veronica the Seer."

"The Three Musketeers?" Hermione said skeptically. "They're fictional characters from a book."

"Who do you think gave Alexandre Dumas the idea?" Merlin grinned while winking. "They were real men, Hermione, believe me, although Alexandre stretched their adventures to be a little more _dramatic_ to fit his purposes. Anyway, that's beside the point. The point is, several years after Albion died, Veronica, a renowned Seer, delivered a prophecy to me."

He rehearsed the same prophecy to Hermione that he'd uttered earlier to Harry and Ron.

"So we're supposed to fix Albion then?" Ron deduced. "How?"

"By traveling back in time, Ron," Hermione stated the obvious. "That's what the prophecy said. I've been doing some research while you two have been otherwise occupied. The history _we_ know is not the history of _this_ world. Shortly after the fall of Camelot, Merlin became the King of Magic and separated the muggle and magical peoples, keeping the peace between them until present day. What I couldn't find was how the fall happened in the first place."

"That's because I destroyed all the history," Merlin stated, stony-faced.

"All of it?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Why?" Hermione demanded. "Nobody knows who King Arthur even is in this world! It's like he never existed."

"Because he didn't!" Merlin snarled, anguished tears forming in his eyes. "Arthur was my best friend! We grew up together. He was a farm boy. We didn't learn he was royalty until he was twenty five. He rushed off... to reclaim his kingdom from the hands of the evil King Bane only to be run through by the man himself! He died before he could become king and Albion died with him. I killed Bane in retribution and then took on the role of Emrys, dividing the magical and nonmagical peoples, setting up the Statue of Secrecy and hoping for the day when the prophecy from Veronica would come to pass. I have been living in my own personal Hell for centuries, knowing that I failed my Destiny and that Albion had been destroyed. Now you have come, by means I know not, and I beg you, please restore what I lost."

The warlock's voice broke, his anguish was so great, but desperate hope radiated from his countenance. Harry was devastated to hear this twisted historic tragedy. His heart began to stir with purpose and when he looked at Ron and Hermione he could tell they were just as determined as him to fix this. Whatever Mordred had done in the past had ruined their future and Harry wanted it back.

"We'll fix it, Merlin," he promised, holding out his hand.

The distressed king looked at Harry's outstretched limb and his tears turned to ones of gratitude. Grasping Harry's forearm, he stared into the young wizard's eyes and soberly nodded.

"You will," he stated, his voice hoarse but sure. "I know you will."

Harry nodded. "What do we have to do?"

Merlin stepped back to think. "The prophecy states that Magic – meaning me – is supposed to send you back to the time before Arthur died. That way you can save him, he can become the King he was meant to be, and Albion can be born."

"Let's get on with it then," Ron said. "Anything to fix this future – no offense, Merlin, but I don't like you as king."

Merlin laughed. "I was never meant to be anyway. That job belongs to the Prat and he can gladly have it!"

The four of them laughed.

"We'll be sure to pass on the message," Hermione smiled.

Merlin nodded before stretching out his hand. Ron stared. "You don't need a time turner to send us back?"

Merlin looked confused. "Of course not, Ron; I've been able to manipulate time since I was a child. This is nothing new."

"If you can manipulate time, why not go back and fix the past yourself?" Harry wondered.

Merlin's countenance fell. "I discovered that while I can help others travel into the past, I cannot go there myself. Believe me, I tried – many, many times – to no avail. It would appear I just have to trust the three of you with the fate of my destiny."

"No pressure," Ron muttered.

Merlin grinned. "You'll succeed. You're the Chosen Three. If there's one thing I've learned in all my years of life it is that prophecies always come to pass. Good luck."

The warlock's eyes flared with gold and a circle of magic extended from his palm, rushing towards them in a beam of light. Harry had a brief moment to appreciate that Merlin didn't even utter a spell before his body was seized upon by some unknown force and he was plunged backwards, unable to see where he was going as a cyclone of color and endless noise dragged him into the past.


	4. Chapter 4

**First off, I'm glad so many of you gave enjoyed the story thus far. Thank you very much for your reviews, follows, and favorites! I'm really putting the characters through a ringer but it'll be alright in the end... hopefully. (insert somewhat sinister, evil laugh) *Cough cough* Anyway, a few of you may be wondering when I'll be updating this story. My goal is to try to update at least once a week but I'm not making any promises since you never know what life will throw at you (and believe me, it's thrown quite a bit at me already this year). Right, on that note, enjoy the chapter! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 03

 **First Year of the Great Purge**

Twilight had fallen upon the great stone walls of Camelot, casting the world in the beginnings of shadow. Torches burned, their flickering light causing the darkness to dance, while the rhythmic footfalls of the city guards marched through the streets enforcing the curfew. Citizens lingered behind closed doors, enveloped in the safety of their loved ones and the few comforts they enjoyed. All seemed to be at peace in the Lower Town but this false sense of security was about to be destroyed for in the depths of the citadel, the life of the king had been stolen by the stroke of a well aimed blade.

Chaos reigned within the walls as the castle shook from the abuse of sorcery. Knights once in battle with the dark forces of the mystical arts now lay dead upon the ground, their bodies half covered in the red capes they were famous for. Servants screamed and ran pell-mell through courtyard, avoiding the blasts of fire, wind, and water coming from the small group of sorcerers fighting against the remaining few noblemen of Camelot.

"Your king is dead!" shouted a sorcerer with lengthy black hair pulled away from his handsome face. "Why do you still fight when all hope is lost?"

"We will never allow our city to be overrun by the likes of you!" roared Sir Pellinore, his dark face filled with rage. His fellow knights cheered, agreeing wholeheartedly with his words.

"The Knights of Camelot are famous for their stubborn folly, Regalis!" cackled a witch with light brown locks and evergreen eyes. "They will continue to fight us until there is no longer breath for them to draw."

"Then maybe we need to cut off their air supply," said a deathly voice behind them.

The gathered sorcerers twisted around to see their leader descending the steps leading into the castle with the head of Uther Pendragon in his hand. Holding his vile spoil by the hair, he thrust it forward for the knights to see.

"This is what will become of every man, woman, and child who continues to fight against me!" he declared, his hazel eyes filled with insane hatred as he flung his dark curls away from his bloodstained face. "I, Bane, hereby claim this city and this land for my own! No longer shall sorcerers be hunted and oppressed. Those who defy us will burn while those who join will be rewarded. Knights of Camelot, make your choice! Swear your loyalty to me or join your king in the abyss!"

Bane tossed the head of Uther Pendragon towards the gathered knights, the appendage rolling to a stop near Sir Pellinore's feet. The knight stared, wide-eyed, at the remains of the man he once swore to protect. Seized upon by loyalty, desperation, and loss, he lifted his sword and shouted, "For the love of Camelot!" before charging towards Bane and his vengeful sorcerers. His fellow knights followed in his wake, all willing to defy this sorcerer who dared take the life of their king. A wicked grin stole over Bane's face before his eyes flashed gold and his magic knocked Sir Pellinore backward, killing him and his comrades before they even reached the ground.

"Fools," Bane hissed, shaking his head without remorse.

"What now, sir?" asked Regalis eagerly. "The city is yours!"

"Not yet," Bane snapped, glaring at his second in command. "Where is the prince?"

Regalis looked to Cecil. The witch nervously shuffled from foot to foot. "He wasn't in the nursery as we first thought," she admitted. "But Davel and Garick are looking for him. Whoever took the babe can't have gone far."

Bane's eyes flashed with anger and his fists clenched dangerously. "And what of Gaius the Physician?"

Regalis swallowed. "He is also unaccounted for."

Bane swore and his eyes flashed gold. The sorcerer standing next to Regalis began to choke, his eyes bulging fearfully as he clawed fruitlessly at his throat. Bane jerked his hand and there was a sickening crack before the sorcerer, now lifeless, fell to the ground.

"Fine them," Bane whispered, "or next time that will be you."

Regalis and Cecil shared a terrified glance before running back into the citadel. The three remaining sorcerers made to go after them but Bane grabbed the largest by the arm.

"Sir?" he questioned.

"Let the others handle finding the traitor and the prince," Bane muttered. "I have another task for you, Nathan."

"What do you require of me?"

Bane's wicked smile returned as his eyes rekindled with the hatred that fueled him. "Venture into the Lower Town," he instructed, "Find Tom the Blacksmith and slaughter him and all of his household. Leave none alive."

Nathan frowned but sent his leader a determined nod before hastening off. Once out of the courtyard, the sorcerer let out a shaky breath before sprinting towards the Lower Town. When Bane had first recruited him, the older man was grieving over the loss of his wife at the hands of Uther. The younger sorcerer had promised him revenge but never in his wildest dreams would Nathan have thought they would be slaughtering women and children in this venture.

Nathan had wanted justice against Uther, nothing more. He had lived in the Lower Town for years, had seen that the people there held no love for the king but obeyed him out of fear. He knew Tom the Blacksmith; the man was as innocent as a newborn kitten. Why would Bane specifically request his death? Something wasn't right and even if Nathan had to run from Bane's terror himself, he wasn't about to let an innocent man and his family die.

Reaching Tom's home, Nathan desperately pounded on the door. The fragile wood was thrown back, exposing a humble abode and the little family it held.

"Nathan!" Tom cried in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to warn you," Nathan stated, rushing inside.

"What's going on?" Elaina, Tom's wife, demanded, holding her baby girl to her chest.

"I don't have much time to explain," Nathan began. "I left three weeks ago when Uther started purging the city for sorcerers."

Tom's eyes widened. "Nathan… are you…?"

"I'm a sorcerer," Nathan confessed, "but you know me, Tom, I would never hurt a man – that is, I hadn't until Uther took Katherine away from me. But you must understand, I was overcome with grief – I wasn't thinking clearly – and then Bane showed up-"

"Bane?"

"He's a sorcerer – the most powerful I've ever seen – and he asked me to join his group of sorcerers in order to avenge our people. I was so overcome with hatred; I accepted his invitation without thought." Nathan hung his head shamefully, his eyes full of regret. "I never knew his plan was to take over Camelot and kill innocent men, women, and children."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked fearfully.

"The king is dead, Thomas," Nathan revealed. "The kingdom is overrun and for reasons I cannot even fathom Bane asked me to come here to kill you and your family."

"What?!" Elaina cried as Tom took up a protective stance.

"I'm not going to!" Nathan hastily exclaimed. "I came here to warn you! All of you need to leave here, _tonight_ , before the city is completely filled with sorcerers who would be more than happy to follow Bane to their deaths."

"You're going to help us?" Tom asked, surprised.

Nathan solemnly nodded. "I may be signing my own death sentence but I would rather die than participate in what Bane is doing. He's mad! If I had known what his ultimate plan was, I never would have joined him."

"And you wouldn't be here now, saving us," Elaina pointed out before Tom could utter a word. "Thank you, Nathan. We are in your debt."

"Only after I get you out of the city," he muttered. "Come on; we need to leave, _now!"_

Tom and Elaina didn't waste time. They took nothing but the clothes on their backs, a few gold coins, their new born daughter, Guinevere, and a bundle of weapons should they need to defend themselves. The chaos from the citadel had leaked into the Lower Town, the shouts of the servants and the sorcerers hunting for the prince having spread the people into full-blown panic. Nathan was thankful for the disorder for it made it easier to smuggle the blacksmith family out of the city and into the forest. Once they reached the trees, the three adults paused for breath, staring back at their home which was now wreathed in flame. Young Guinevere started to cry and her mother hastily tried to calm the babe.

"You need to keep going," Nathan muttered to Tom. "Travel towards Nemeth. There are plenty of towns there in need of a blacksmith. If you venture far enough, Bane will be unable to find you."

"What about you?"

Nathan smiled. "Don't worry about me. I'll travel by another road – draw away any who might try to follow – and regroup with you in Nemeth."

"It's too dangerous," the blacksmith protested.

Nathan laughed. "Tom, I'm a sorcerer. I can take care of myself. Now go!"

Tom looked as if he were about to argue but then nodded, clasping the sorcerer's hand. "Take care of yourself."

Nathan inclined his head before the two drew apart, the sorcerer watching as the blacksmith led his wife and crying daughter further into the woods. Whispering a spell that would cover their tracks, a solemn tear fell down Nathan's cheek. He didn't know Bane very well but he did know the man would not tolerate failure. If he returned, the truth would be made known. If he ran, there was a chance that Bane would find him and then extract the information as to where Tom and his family had gone. There was only one route left for the sorcerer to take.

Heading north, he traveled for the space of several hours before coming to a steady flowing river. Taking out a dagger, he braced himself for what he was about to do. It was odd how easy it was, allowing the small blade to slip past his skin into his abdomen. His beloved Katherine had been taken from him, Uther was now dead; he had nothing left to tether him to this world. He could die happy, knowing that he had done something right in protecting a family that had been nothing but cordial to him and his late wife. He could now go to his Katherine, smiling.

The blade slipped from his fingers and Nathan the sorcerer fell into the river, the significance of his sacrifice granting him passage into Avalon where his Katherine stood waiting for him with a tender smile.

[][][]

Arthur was upset. How could he not be when Kay was an idiot? Just because he was nine years older didn't mean he could treat him like he was some kind of personal servant! Leon never did. Why couldn't Kay be like Leon? Arthur wiped his runny nose, his blue eyes filled with unshed tears. Men didn't cry, he reminded himself. That's what Sir Ector always said.

Arthur kicked a rock with his foot and sniffed again, his eyes on the forested path. He knew he was being reckless, wandering off when he should be helping gather firewood, but it was Kay's fault he'd run away in the first place! Kay was mean. He always tried to make Arthur do what he wanted to do, the worst being his personal punching bag. Leon always came to the rescue though, saving Arthur before Kay could land more than two blows to his stomach. Arthur loved Leon best out of his two older brothers. The six year old suddenly felt guilty. Leon would be very worried and probably yell at him for leaving.

Just when he was about to turn back, Arthur heard the soft whisper of a foreign tongue just ahead where the trees met the local stream. Using the hunting skills Sir Ector taught him, Arthur wiped his face dry, bent down low and crept forward. Peering through the bushes, he was surprised to see someone else sniffling at the edge of the brook.

The little boy's short hair was the color of ebony, his skin incredibly pale. He wore a red neckerchief around his thin throat over a blue tunic and light brown trousers. The gentle flow of the stream tickled the boy's well-worn leather boots, wetting the edges but not enough to bring discomfort. What intrigued Arthur the most was what the boy was holding in his hands. It was a blue sphere of light, the inner workings of the ball swirling with the pure energy of what could only be magic. It was one of the most amazing things Arthur had ever seen.

Arthur wasn't terrified of magic but he was a little wary of it. Sir Ector and Gaius, the local town's physician, had taught him that magic was like a sword: it could be a weapon to destroy or a tool to build. Arthur had seen several sorcerers thrown out of town for disturbing the peace but he'd also seen others prevent raiders from taking their food in the winter. What he wanted to know was if this boy was a good sorcerer or a bad one. Arthur decided that the only way to find out was to reveal himself. He stealthily picked up a stick and held it like a sword before stepping out from behind the bush.

"Why are you crying?" he demanded, trying to mask his apprehension with confidence.

The little boy gasped and dropped the magic ball. The phenomenon disappeared as its creator attempted to stand but his wet boots slipped on the rock and he fell back into the stream. Arthur tried not to laugh as the boy thrashed about before dragging himself out of the water now soaking wet. His black hair clung to his forehead and his clothes stuck to his skinny frame as he stood dripping on the bank. What immediately caught Arthur's attention were the boy's eyes; they were a shade of blue he had never seen before and seemed to stir with an ethereal essence of remarkable power. As they stared at each other, Arthur felt something stir within his soul, drawing him unconsciously towards the young stranger.

"I'm Arthur," he introduced.

"Merlin," the boy answered, shaking his offered hand.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked, concerned.

Merlin sniffed and nodded, immediately looking away as his cheeks darkened. "I'm fine," he mumbled.

Arthur frowned. "No you're not. You were crying – and don't you dare lie because I saw you!"

Merlin scowled. "I said I was fine! What do you care, anyway? You did nothing to help when I fell in."

"You weren't in any danger. The water's shallow enough and it's slow."

"You still laughed at me – and don't lie because I saw you," he cheekily added.

Arthur smirked. "Alright, fine, I _did_ laugh but that was only because you looked like an idiot flailing about. Now, since I've told you the truth you have to tell me why you were crying."

Seeing that he was caught, the boy's cheeks darkened further, and he wiped several water drops from his eyes. "I'm lost," he admitted. "I can't find my mommy."

Arthur looked around but couldn't see anyone nearby. For a six year old he felt he knew these woods pretty well. From the landmarks he knew the nearest settlement was his own, Alnwick; the town was huge so it was possible Merlin was from there but he felt the need to ask just in case.

"Where are you from?"

"Farworyn," Merlin answered.

Arthur's eyes widened in surprise. "That's where the Dragonlords live!" he exclaimed in excitement. "It's on the other side of the hill – the beginnings of Dragon Country! Wait – are you a dragonlord?"

"My daddy is," Merlin admitted.

"Wow," Arthur breathed in awe. He'd heard plenty of stories of dragons and dragonlords and, while terrified, he was always fascinated when travelers would share their encounters with them.

"My daddy is the Dragonlord Chief," Merlin proudly stated, "and one day I'm gonna be jus' like 'im!"

Arthur sent him a concerned frown. How had the son of a Dragonlord Chief ventured this far into the woods alone? Surely he wouldn't have been allowed to go very far; the child looked to be around four years old. Sir Ector hardly let Arthur travel a quarter of a league away from Alnwick and he always had to have Kay or Leon with him! Did dragonlords have different rules?

"Are you traveling with your parents?" Arthur asked, trying to be helpful since Merlin started to sniffle again.

The little boy shook his head disdainfully. "I don't know how I got here," he confessed. "I was at home, playing with my toys, when my magic went all funny. I suddenly felt sad and wanted to make it all better. Then I blinked and I was here. I want to go home!"

Merlin began to cry. Not really knowing what to do, Arthur hit him in the arm.

"Ouch! W-What was that for?" Merlin wailed, rubbing the smart while glaring tearfully at the blonde.

"Men don't cry," Arthur shrugged, folding his arms and looking away. "Now come on; I happen to know these woods. Farworyn is on the other side of that hill." He pointed to a small hill in the distance. "That's where Dragon Country starts."

Merlin looked where Arthur was pointing and frowned. "That seems like a long way. Are you sure you know how to get there?"

Arthur rolled his eyes before pushing past him, following the stream. "Of course I'm sure, _Mer_ lin."

There was a moment of hesitation before Arthur heard Merlin's clumsy footfalls following after him. As they went, the former kept a tight grip on his stick; it was always better to have some kind of weapon in the woods than to travel empty handed. Arthur couldn't wait until he was fifteen like Leon and Kay – then he could carry around a bow, a small sword, and a dagger.

"So where are _your_ parents?" Merlin asked as Arthur helped him climb over a fallen tree.

The six year old looked away. "Um…I don't have any," he confessed. "They died five years ago when King Bane took over the city of Camelot."

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, his voice laced with the utmost sincerity.

Arthur shrugged, knocking pinecones out of his path with his stick. "I never really knew them. I was one when they died. Sir Ector and Gaius take care of me – along with Leon and Kay. They're my brothers. Well, they kind of are. Like me, Leon's parents died in Camelot, but Kay is Sir Ector's real son."

"I always wanted brothers," Merlin said with longing and a hint of jealousy.

Arthur snorted, thinking of Kay. "They're not that great – well, Leon is but Kay is mean. He makes me do everything he wants."

"He's a bully then," Merlin deduced. "I don't like bullies. They're mean."

"I just said that, idiot," Arthur teased.

Merlin scowled. "I'm not an idiot!"

"Idiots fall into streams."

"You scared me!"

"Idiots get scared."

Merlin's eyes began to water again. "You're being mean – like a bully!"

Arthur immediately felt bad. He hadn't meant to make Merlin cry. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I was just playing."

He didn't know why it was so important for Merlin to like him. They'd just met and he wasn't even from Alnwick. It wasn't like they would ever see each other after this… That thought made Arthur really sad. Maybe he could ask Sir Ector if they could visit Farworyn sometime? But from what he'd heard, the dragonlords weren't friendly and they didn't like to leave their village. But Merlin seemed nice so maybe that wasn't true…?

"You're a prat," Merlin muttered.

Offended, Arthur turned around to defend himself but then he saw Merlin's goofy grin. It made him look even more idiotic and endearing than he'd been when he was crying. Scowling, Arthur punched him in the arm again before turning his attention back to the path.

"I'm not a prat," he grumbled.

"Yes, you are," Merlin giggled, avoiding the stick Arthur tried to hit him with.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur griped though he was smiling.

After walking through the woods for an hour Arthur deduced that Merlin was both annoying and intriguing. No matter how much he demanded it, the boy wouldn't shut up. By the time they reached the thicker part of the forest leading towards the hill and Dragon Country, Arthur had learned that Merlin was four years old, he'd been able to perform magic since he was born, he spent most of his time talking to two dragons called Kilgharrah and Nieryn, and his favorite spell involved making and shaping fire.

Besides the dragons, Arthur was most intrigued about Merlin's magic and the four year old was only too happy to share. He made fire appear in his hand and, after some coaxing, managed to get Arthur to touch it. The six year old was delighted when it didn't burn him but he did cry out in alarm when the fire took the shape of a small dragon that looped around his fingers before nestling into his palm. After realizing he was fine – and punching Merlin in the arm with his free hand for the scare – Arthur spent the next half hour petting the fire lizard while they continued to wind their way through the trees.

Arthur then shared his life with Merlin, delving into detail about his dream to become a knight like his deceased father. Sir Ector had been teaching him since birth how to hunt and fight while Gaius taught him how to read and write. Merlin confessed his love for literature while Arthur stated his detest for it but understanding its necessity. The four year old also didn't approve of Arthur's love for hunting for sport but he did agree that it was essential in order to survive.

"Looks like we finally got to the hill," Arthur panted, a good two hours later.

"Yeah," Merlin agreed, leaning against a tree.

"I didn't think it would take this long," the six year old admitted, staring up at the sky. The sun was beginning its descent. By now both boys were experiencing hunger and thirst, the lack of nourishment ruining Merlin's concentration and causing the little fire dragon in Arthur's hand to disappear. Arthur was sad to see the dragon disappear but they had more pressing problems. He hoped that the village was close; he didn't like the idea of not knowing when he'd be able to eat and drink again.

"Are you sure Farworyn is on the other side of this hill?" Merlin hesitantly asked, his stomach growling for the hundredth time.

Arthur frowned. "That's what all the travelers say when they come through town."

"But you've never actually been there," Merlin stated.

"No. But –"

"I knew it!" Merlin interrupted. "We're even more lost than we were before!"

"Hang on!" Arthur cried, offended. "I didn't have to help you get this far, you know. I could have left you by that stream!"

Merlin began to cry. "We'll never make it back! Why did my magic bring me out here? It's never done that before! I want my mommy!"

Arthur shuffled back and forth uncomfortably. He didn't want Merlin to cry again and he certainly didn't want the boy to think he'd failed him. Arthur had never wanted to let anyone down and since he was the one who'd found him, he felt it was his duty to make sure Merlin made it home.

Gently poking him in the stomach with his stick, Arthur got the little sorcerer's attention. "Hey," he smiled, "don't give up just yet. We still haven't made it to the top of the hill. Once we're up there, we should be able to see your village. Come on, there's not that far to go."

Merlin sniffled, wiping his nose. "Okay," he mumbled.

But before either boy could move a muscle something let out a fierce growl to Arthur's left. The six year old whirled around, brandishing his stick in both hands just as an enormous wolf emerged from the trees. Its fur was thick and black except for around its mouth, the color white and the hair partly stained with what looked suspiciously like dried blood. Its dark gray eyes sparked with a predatory hunger and its large tongue licked its fangs in anticipation. Merlin whimpered and latched onto Arthur's shoulders. The older boy shook him off and pushed him back, keeping both eyes on the wolf.

"Don't worry, Merlin," he said, his voice shaking, "I'll protect you."

The wolf snarled, baring its razor sharp fangs. Arthur swallowed nervously. He had never killed anything this big before. The largest game he'd ever taken down had been a rabbit and, though he'd never admit it to anyone, it was by pure accident that he'd even killed it at all. Kay had sneezed behind him when he'd thrown his sling, startling him and changing the stone's direction just enough to smack the rabbit's head instead of the dirt. Leon and Sir Ector had both been so proud; Arthur hadn't had the heart to tell them the truth. Now he wished he had because there was no way he could take down a wolf. He only had a stick and the best _that_ could do is poke the beast in the eye! But then he heard Merlin's whimpering and an overwhelming desire to protect him pushed the six year old's fears aside.

 _I told him I'd protect him_ , he reminded himself, _so I'm going to do that or die trying!_

The wolf leapt forward and Arthur swung his stick, the thick wood smacking the beast in the jaw, but the wolf's bulky body slammed into Arthur's side, tipping him off balance.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried in alarm.

Arthur twisted onto his back just as the wolf leapt towards him. The six year old was too shocked to react, his wide blue eyes reflecting the fear of dying and the despair of defeat. The wolf's front paws slammed into his small chest, crushing him further into the dirt. Arthur groaned as the air was forced from his lungs, his skin protesting under the weight of a creature three times his size. The wolf's putrid breath agonized his senses, its tongue lapping over the fangs that were about to sink into his neck…

" _NO!"_ Merlin screamed.

Arthur's vision was overcome by a blue light and, as he closed his searing eyes, the weight on his chest disappeared. The wolf let out an agonized cry that sounded more like a wounded dog than a menacing beast. Arthur gasped and sat up, looking around just in time to see Merlin's eyes fade from gold to blue, his hands outstretched with tears falling down his cheeks. The wolf lay dead three feet away, a hole in its side where Merlin's raw magic had apparently pierced it.

"Arthur!"

Small arms wrapped around Arthur's shoulders as Merlin embraced him, his tears intensifying into sobs. Arthur was crying himself – a manifestation of his earlier fear. He was alive! Merlin had saved him! Arthur latched onto the small boy, holding him close.

"You're okay," Merlin gasped.

"Yeah," Arthur shakily replied as the two pulled away.

They hastily rubbed their eyes and glanced over at the wolf, shuddering.

"You killed it," Arthur stated.

Merlin nodded sadly. "I wasn't going to let it kill you. I couldn't."

Arthur broke out into a genuine smile. "Thank you."

 _"Arthur!"_

Arthur looked up to see Sir Ector running through the trees towards him with Kay and Leon on his heels. The six year old swallowed nervously for his foster father looked rather upset. Though hidden behind a short beard, his disapproving scowl was hard to miss. Kay appeared just as angry as his father while Leon looked relieved, his light brown curls bouncing freely as he ran.

Sir Ector dropped to his knee and grabbed Arthur by the shoulders. "Are you alright?" he demanded, his dark brown eyes assessing him.

"I'm fine," Arthur assured, attempting to smile, but it disappeared when Sir Ector's worry transformed into anger.

"What did you think you were doing, running off into the woods alone?" he chastened. "You could have been killed!"

"Sorry," Arthur muttered, looking away.

Sir Ector sighed before standing up. It was then that he noticed Merlin hovering nervously behind Arthur. "Who's this?"

"Oh! This is Merlin," Arthur said, the smile returning to his face. "He saved me from the wolf."

"Wolf?!" Kay and Leon cried together.

Sir Ector looked faint as he saw the carcass Arthur was pointing towards. He turned back to Merlin who was now standing in Arthur's shadow. "You did this, boy?"

Merlin nodded, his cheeks pink.

"It was amazing!" Arthur exclaimed. "I tried to stop it but it pushed me to the ground and then, right before it was about to eat me, Merlin used his magic to kill it!"

"Only because it would have hurt you," Merlin clarified. "I wouldn't have done it if it hadn't attacked us first."

Kay opened his mouth to say something when a deafening roar rattled their eardrums. They all looked up to see a huge dragon descending towards them, its scales as bright as the gold pieces Arthur had seen Sir Ector stashing underneath the loose floorboard in their house. With awe Arthur watched the dragon swoop around until it was hovering just above the trees, having no place to land. Its wing beats caused the treetops to creak in protest, several leaves falling to the ground. Something moved near the creature's head and Arthur watched in awe as what apparently turned out to be a man slipped off the creature's neck, landed on one of its large front legs, and gracefully leapt down onto the dirt floor.

"Daddy!" Merlin cried, stumbling in his haste to get towards the fierce-looking man who had just entered the forest.

Arthur decided that Merlin's dad was both large and scary. His long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, his beard thicker than Sir Ector's and covering most of his face. A strange kind of metal cuff rested on his ears in the shape of a dragon's wing. His brown leather coat and boots were thick, his dark blue tunic underneath laced together at the top with brown cord. Metal cuffs hid his wrists, engraved with dragons, and both a sword and dagger lay between the thick brown belts looped around his waist. The power radiating from the man was due to both his station as a dragonlord and a chieftain to his people. He was the most intimidating man Arthur had ever seen and he'd seen a lot of scary-looking people in the local tavern.

The dragonlord scooped his son into his arms, holding him tightly. "How on earth did you get out here, Merlin?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

"My magic," Merlin answered as Balinor put him back on the ground. "It sent me to the forest but Arthur found me and told me he was going to take me home and then we were attacked by a wolf but I killed it."

Merlin's father looked up, noticing the small party for the first time. "You have my gratitude," he said while inclining his head. "My son has never been outside my village before."

"I found him," Arthur said before Sir Ector could reply.

The dragonlord, though surprised, smiled. "Then you must be Arthur."

"That's right," Arthur grinned as Merlin nodded.

"I'm afraid I can't accept any of your gratitude," Sir Ector confessed. "I'm only here because Arthur was missing and I went looking for him – but I'm glad he was able to help your son."

"You have my thanks anyway," the Chief replied with amusement. "Even if he acted individually, it is a noble thing to travel with a stranger through the woods. You've raised the boy well."

Sir Ector laughed. "As well as I can manage. He does like to wander off on his own."

"Adventure ensnares us all, especially in our youth," the dragonlord smiled. "I'm Balinor."

"Ector," the knight introduced, shaking the man's hand. "This is Kay, my son, and Leon, my foster son."

"Arthur is his foster son too," Merlin added.

Balinor chuckled. "It's nice to meet you all." The dragon above them let out a snarl and the dragonlord laughed again, shaking his head. "Kilgharrah is becoming impatient. Come on, Merlin, let's go home."

"But," Merlin protested, looking at Arthur.

The six year old had taken an unconscious step towards him, his eyes holding his silent desire for Merlin to stay. He didn't want to say goodbye. Balinor glanced between the two and then looked up at Ector.

"I don't suppose it would hurt if we came to visit you in the future?" he suggested.

Sir Ector's eyebrows rose but before he could answer Arthur latched onto his arm desperately. "Can they? Please?" the six year old begged.

Arthur didn't know why but he really didn't want to be separated from Merlin. He had this weird feeling that he couldn't explain, like part of him would be missing if he never got to see Merlin again. The younger boy seemed to be feeling it too, if the desperation in his eyes had anything to say about it.

"We'd love for you to visit," Sir Ector said, confused by Arthur's desperate behavior but unwilling to say no.

"Yes!" Arthur proclaimed, his smile as wide as Merlin's. "Thank you, Ector!"

"Perhaps we'll come by in a couple of weeks," Balinor said, also confused by his own son's actions. "You live in Alnwick?"

"That's right," Sir Ector answered.

Balinor nodded to him before turning to head back the way he'd come. "Come on, Merlin," he said.

Merlin looked at his father before looking back at Arthur with longing. The six year old sent him a weak smile and a half-hearted wave. The little sorcerer then surprised him by creating the same ball of blue light he'd made back by the stream.

"Here," he said, holding it out to Arthur.

Arthur took it and immediately felt warmth spreading through his soul. An unconscious smile lit his face. "Thanks."

"See you later, Arthur," Merlin grinned before stumbling back over to his father.

"You better come visit!" Arthur shouted as Balinor plucked his son from the ground.

"I will! I promise!" Merlin assured as his father began to ascend Kilgharrah's lowered tail, the two disappearing as they climbed past the trees up Kilgharrah's spine before resting behind the dragon's head.

The dragon let out a roar and thrust his wings downward in a great burst of strength, his body propelling upward and then away from Arthur's sight. Holding the ball of light close to his chest, Arthur walked beside Sir Ector in silence all the way back to Alnwick, filled with hope that Merlin would keep his promise as he said he would.

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 **Reviews are always received with happiness! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this took a while longer to get out than I had planned; work life has been a little stressful lately. Thank you all for your patience and your reviews! Someone asked how often I would update. I plan to get a chapter out at least once a week. It's a good challenge for me but if that pattern gets disrupted please don't be too upset with having to wait. And for the person who wondered what happened to Elyan in this timeline... well, you're about to find out. :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

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Chapter 04

Guinevere pushed a few stubborn curls away from her face as she wiped the sweat from her heated brow. The sun was beating down fiercely in the summer sky, lighting the forest with a greenish glow. The young maiden was searching for herbs in the local woods just outside of Penryn, the biggest town in the central land of Nemeth besides the capital city. Guinevere had grown up in these woods and therefore knew all there was to know about them: where the streams ran, where the best game could be found, and where herbs loved to grow. Sometimes she would venture out amidst the trees to practice with the sword since her father did not think the townspeople would approve of a woman with a blade.

Her father and son were the best blacksmiths in the area for at least ten leagues, gaining all kinds of customers from knights to traveling swordsmen. Though it wasn't known, Guinevere helped out in the forge just as much as her younger brother, Elyan, and therefore knew all the tricks of the trade. She'd even produced some of the finer pieces of metalwork that several nobles had swooned over when perusing her father's shop. She hated the fact that she could never reveal that she was the maker, having to remain off to the side and allowing her father to accept the praise. And though he would always make sure to praise her in private, it just wasn't the same.

Guinevere sighed, plucking a wildflower and twisting its delicate stem back and forth between her fingers. It was unfair that she had to live a double life, pretending that she was nothing but a simple girl training under the local physician, Alice, on how to make herbs and potions for the infirm when she was just as strong as Elyan fighting with a sword. She'd even beaten him in several of their private sparing sessions for goodness sake! Why couldn't a woman be a warrior? It was so unjust! It wasn't that she hated being Alice's assistant – she loved helping people – but she felt that she wasn't living up to her true potential, like she was made for something more than just a blacksmith's daughter and physician assistant. Sighing, Guinevere placed the wildflower in her basket of overflowing herbs and moved on to the next batch of greenery.

She had been in the woods for nearly an hour and was about to make her way home when she heard someone shout out in fearful protest, "Please, _don't!_ Leave me alone! I have nothing of value!"

Dropping her basket and removing her sword from her waist, Guinevere rushed through the trees towards the distressed woman's cries. A moment later she stumbled upon a rather dishonorable scene. Three men had surrounded a fair-skinned woman, their lust for more than wealth apparent from their riotous laughter and suggestive body language.

"Leave her alone!" Guinevere commanded as the one closest began tugging on the woman's dark green cloak.

The three miscreants turned around, surprised and annoyed by the interruption. Upon seeing Guinevere, they began to laugh, relaxing from their defensive stance. Though they were large in size and rather rugged in appearance, Guinevere was not afraid to face them. She'd defeated thugs their size before; previous opponents had learned that she was not like other helpless maidens in the woods but a dangerous force to be reckoned with.

"What do we have here?" the nearest asked, his half-rotted teeth grinning evilly with glee. "It seems the gods have decided to favor us lads."

"If you mean by favoring your death," Guinevere threatened, holding aloft her sword.

"Where'd you get that, honeysuckle?" asked the largest of the group as he stepped towards her with a mocking smile. "Don't you know women aren't supposed to play with swords?"

Guinevere swung the blade, the tip scratching the man's right cheek just enough to draw blood. Howling with pain, he stepped back in alarm, holding the wound. His friends came up on either side of him, anger in their eyes. Guinevere held her stance, her gaze turning razor sharp like a dagger's edge.

"If you value your lives, you'll leave us be," she warned.

"Not gonna happen, you bloody wench!" the third shouted, running towards her with his sword raised.

Guinevere twisted to the side, deflecting his blow before plunging her sword into his flesh, piecing vital organs near his midsection. The man gasped, his eyes wide with shock and surprise. The young maiden yanked her blade free and he fell to the ground, dead. The dark-skinned beauty turned her attentions back to the two men who were staring in horror at their comrade's corpse.

"The same will happen to you if you don't leave - _now,_ " Guinevere promised.

"Let's get out of here!" the one with the rotten teeth cried, ditching his partner in crime and heading for the woods with all speed. His companion sent Guinevere one last terrified gaze before following after him.

Guinevere looked at the corpse with a regretful frown. She didn't enjoy killing people but if it was to save those who were defenseless, she would always do what needed to be done. Stepping around the body, she approached the woman now leaning against the base of a tree. She was rather pretty, her dark hair falling about her thin face, her gray-blue eyes filled with kindness despite the hardship she had just endured.

"Hello, my name is Guinevere but most people call me Gwen."

"My name is Finna," the woman replied, smiling at her and accepting the hand Guinevere offered. She did not let go once on her feet but drew the maiden closer to her. "You have a great destiny, child," she cryptically whispered. "The Once and Future King will need you in order to unite the lands and create a world where all may live in peace."

Guinevere wrenched herself away from the woman's strong grip and stared at her skeptically. She'd heard stories of this King – everyone had – but for her to play a part in his destiny? The legend stated that he would pull a sword from a stone, reclaim his rightful place on the throne of his forefathers, and unite all peoples under one rule. There were some who speculated this destined King was to reclaim the throne of Essetir which had recently been taken by the ruthless tyrant, King Cenred. Others believed it was the throne currently belonging to the magical King Bane who had claimed Camelot twenty four years ago. Guinevere had personally grown up believing the legend was nothing but a story told by the old people in town to give hope of better things to come because the lands were on the brink of war.

Since King Bane's attack on Camelot, the other kingdoms had rallied their own divisions of sorcerers and warriors, preparing should there be any further hostilities. Even though it had been years since then, there were rumors of armies amassing in Amata and Essetir. Camelot had become a kingdom of magic and many felt threatened by the power King Bane was accumulating as sorcerers and druids flocked to his lands. Nemeth and Caerleon had yet to take action but the people were tense, sensing that if something wasn't done soon then war would consume them all. It was no wonder the legends of the Once and Future King were whispered throughout the night; people wanted some kind of hope to hold on to. But Guinevere never thought any of it could be real. How could one man unite the lands? It was impossible.

"I think you're mistaken," she gently protested. "The Once and Future King is nothing but a fairytale to put children to sleep and comfort those who are wary of the impending war between the kingdoms."

"Oh my child," Finna smiled, taking Guinevere's hand, "This is no mistake. I have a message for you from my mistress, Morgana, a revered Seer on the Isle of the Blessed: You must travel to the Valley of the Fallen Kings. There you will find the legend you were born to aid."

The woman then disappeared, her body simply fading away in a gentle breeze that caused the leaves to rustle back and forth. Alarmed, Guinevere looked around before retreating to her basket and running back to Penryn. The words from the sorceress plagued her the whole way and by the time she reached Alice's abode, poor Guinevere was in quite the state. She was breathing heavily, her mind whirling with confusion but her heart bursting with anticipation. Deep down she knew Finna had spoken the truth but there was a part of her that wanted to laugh the whole thing off.

"My dear girl, what is on your mind?" Alice asked, taking the basket out of Guinevere's hands.

"Huh?"

Alice chuckled. "You've been standing in the doorway for the last two minutes. What's troubling you?"

Guinevere's cheeks darkened. Fiddling with her fingers she wandered over and sat down at the old woman's table, a heavy sigh escaping her. The table's surface was covered with various herbs and books, along with parchment containing some of Alice's handwritten notes concerning particular remedies she'd either made or altered along the way. There was a large stack of books and knick-knacks in the corner from the woman's travels in her younger days. A patient's bed sat in another corner next to a wall covered in herbs that had been turned upside down to dry. An open doorway hidden with a cloth led to Alice's private chambers on the far side of the room opposite the front door. Guinevere sighed again, enjoying the familiarity of it all. Life may not always be simple here in Alice's work space but it never failed to calm the young woman down.

Alice quickly made a calming brew, placing a clay cup in front of Guinevere and taking the seat opposite her. Guinevere smiled gratefully before taking a sip of the hot liquid, smiling as familiar spices and herbs danced upon her tongue.

"Now, tell me what's got you so worked up," Alice invited before adding with a mischievous smile, "It's not a boy, is it?"

"What? Of course not!" Guinevere immediately laughed but then she paused. "Well… maybe?" she admitted.

"Go on then," the old woman prompted.

Guinevere sighed before explaining everything to Alice, her words falling out of her mouth in an unsuppressed tirade. "You don't think it's true, do you?" she finished, staring at Alice hopefully.

Alice sat back, fiddling with her braided brown hair, her blue eyes downcast as she thought. The lines on her elder face were pulled in concentration as she contemplated what Guinevere had just shared. After a moment she smiled, her countenance filled with a light the young maiden had never seen before. Alice reached over and took her dark hands between her rough fingers.

"My dear, this news is something I have longed for my whole life," she admitted. "You know I use magic as part of my healing abilities and you know that drives many people away."

"I do," Guinevere said, "but I always thought the stories you and the others shared were just that: _stories._ Is the Once and Future King really real?"

"He is as real as Emrys is," Alice declared, her eyes shining bright.

"Emrys?"

"The greatest sorcerer to ever live," she clarified. "My people have waited for him for a very long time. We rarely speak of him but all who are close to the Old Religion know of his destiny. He will help the Once and Future King unite the lands and magic will work hand in hand with those who do not possess it. It will be a Golden Age where all are equal: the time of Albion."

"And this Emrys, is he alive?" Guinevere prompted for Alice looked like she was slipping away into fantasies. The old woman looked at her.

"If you were told to meet the Once and Future King, then I have great faith that Emrys _is_ alive and that he will soon unite with him. My dear Guinevere, you are going to be part of something extraordinary!"

"But how can you know? We don't know if this woman was speaking the truth," Guinevere argued. "She could have been rambling!"

"Guinevere," Alice smiled, squeezing the young girl's hand. "The woman who addressed you, Finna, I have heard of her. She is a very powerful sorceress and is part of the Bendrui. They live on the Isle of the Blessed and do the bidding of the High Priestesses of the Old Religion. Due to the context of the message, I suspect Finna's mistress is a Seer and has seen your destiny."

Guinevere could hardly believe what she was hearing. "But what can I do?" she asked doubtfully. "I know that I have always longed for something else besides being a blacksmith's daughter and a physician – no offense," she added, "But this is insane! What can I offer the Once and Future King? Why would he need me?"

"Perhaps he needs a blacksmith or a healer," Alice said with a smile. "You and I both know you're quite capable of holding your own in both crafts."

Guinevere sighed. "Are you saying that it's my destiny to make the King's armor for him? Or am I supposed to heal him from some fatal wound? You have to admit, Alice, both of those seem somewhat ludicrous."

Alice laughed. "Destiny is a funny thing, child. Maybe you are meant to do something entirely different. You can't limit yourself to only two possibilities when there is so much unknown still to discover. The only way you're ever going to get the answers you seek is to seek them."

"So you're saying I should go?" Guinevere asked. "To the Valley of the Fallen Kings?"

"That choice is up to you," the old woman smiled.

"Should I bring things to make armor?"

Alice patted Guinevere's hand, her gray-blue eyes twinkling with life and wisdom. "Take whatever you feel you will need. Your destiny is waiting for you, Guinevere. Go and seize it."

The young woman bit her lip but nodded, standing up. The two shared a warm embrace before Guinevere left the shop, traveling down the dirt road for home. The town was still bustling with life as the late afternoon sun drew ever closer to the western horizon. Men and women hackled over various wares, children played in the streets, drunken sods swayed as they walked away from the tavern arm in arm with a wench, and minstrels entertained the masses in the town square. Reaching the blacksmith's shop, Guinevere dodged the curious shoppers currently being entertained by her brother and went back to where her father stood shaping some metal into a formidable ax.

"Father," she greeted, kissing him on the cheek.

"Gwen! How's Alice," he smiled, setting his tools down to hug her.

"She's well," Guinevere answered before letting out a sigh.

The whole way here she'd formed a conversation in her head arguing with her father about why he should let her go to Camelot's lands but now that she stood in front of the man, her head was full of cotton.

"Gwen? Is something wrong?"

She looked up, touched by the concern in her father's eyes. Even before losing her mother during Elyan's birth, Guinevere had been the apple of her father's eye. He dotted on her, protected her – sometimes overly so – and always made sure to provide her with what she needed. Tom was a good man and a great father but Guinevere was afraid he wouldn't see past his protective feelings for her once she presented her case. Only one way to find out…

"Nothing's wrong – there's just something I need to talk to you about."

Tom's brow furrowed further. Wiping his hands on his apron, he gave his daughter his full attention. Guinevere began to fidget nervously. She'd been known to ramble when anxious and often said things with very little – if any – tact. She jumped a little when her father's hands suddenly found her shoulders.

"Gwen, you can tell me, whatever it is."

"Alright," she breathed, closing her eyes a moment. "The thing is, it's crazy – you might not even believe me – but it's important - and deep down I feel it's what I need to do –"

"Gwen," her father interrupted, smiling exasperatedly.

She sheepishly smiled, realizing she'd started rambling unintentionally. "Sorry. Okay, here goes…"

The only part of her tale she left out was that she'd rescued Finna from bandits; her father didn't need to know that she had gone up against three men on her own. She included what Alice had shared with her as well as her personal conviction that she felt this was something she needed to do. As he listened, her father's frown became even more prominent, his eyes downcast on the floor, and his body as still as stone. Guinevere finished and waited, wondering what the outcome was going to be, biting her lip and silently hoping her father would grant her permission to pursue her destiny.

"Are you going to let her go?"

Both Tom and Guinevere looked around the see Elyan leaning in the doorway, his arms folded tightly against his chest. It still amazed Guinevere how much her brother had grown in the past few years. He had become a strong young man with a heart of gold and a deep love for his father and sister. He had a warm smile and was fairly easy to talk to but he possessed the same stubborn spirit as the rest of his family when it came to something he believed in.

Tom let out a heavy sigh and answered, "I don't want to but if I tried to stop her she'd find a way to go anyway."

Guinevere smiled sadly. "You know me well."

"Then I'd like to go too," Elyan said, challenging both his father and sister with a determined glint in his eye.

"Elyan, I don't need your protection," Guinevere started.

"Gwen, it would bring both dad and I peace of mind if you allowed me to go with you," he argued.

Guinevere looked at her father and found the silent agreement behind his dark eyes. The young woman felt bad. She was fine with Elyan accompanying her but she didn't want to leave her father to man the forge by himself. "But father can't do all of this on his own."

"I'll manage, Gwen," Tom assured, sending her a warm but sad smile. "Besides, Elyan is right; I would feel better if he were with you. Camelot can be a dangerous place. There's a reason we left there."

"You told us King Bane ordered to have us killed. But, father, that was years ago. He won't know who we are now that we're grown," Elyan stated. "We'll be fine."

Tom sighed, biting his lip. "Just promise me that the two of you will be careful?"

"We promise," Guinevere assured, hugging him tightly. "I need to do this, father."

"I know," he muttered sadly. "Just take care."

"I will," she promised before turning to Elyan. "We leave at first light so make sure you're ready to go."

Elyan grinned. "Yes, milady."

Guinevere poked him in the stomach and rolled her eyes at the title, a smile on her lips.

[][][]

It was the perfect day for flying. Nieryn let out a draconic sigh, closing her purple eyes and enjoying the way the wind rushed over her scales and past her wings. Her large body drifted on the current for as long as it could before she flapped her wings to regain her altitude. Chief Balinor had instructed all the dragons to tread carefully if they ever chose to leave Dragon Country since there were plenty of enemy sorcerers out there with the use of dark magic that could capture her noble breed.

Kilgharrah didn't like it when Nieryn ventured past the hills but she couldn't help that her obsession was easier to satisfy in other lands besides their own! While Kilgharrah's hoard consisted of riddles that could easily be gained from travelers passing through the Country, Nieryn's love for swords was not so readily available. She had to travel in order to find the best work! Why couldn't her mate understand that? Merlin understood and he wasn't even a real dragon or a dragonlord!

The large silver beast snorted as she thought of Merlin. That little one had always managed to pull on her dragon heartstrings. Smiling from a long distant memory involving the warlock trying to perform a rather difficult spell, Nieryn suddenly heard the clashing of weapons far below her. Anticipation swirled within and her nostalgic smile turned into an excited one. Brawls always left spoils and sometimes fantastic blades could be found amidst the dead. Angling her body towards the earth, Nieryn began to spiral in a wide circle over the battle, turning her head so one large eye could survey the ground. What she saw surprised her.

The attack wasn't at all fair; a man and woman were desperately trying to fight off an assault involving at least ten men. Though they were holding their own quite well, Nieryn knew they wouldn't survive for long. Two well-aimed arrows and the two would meet their end. The weapon in the woman's hand immediately caught her attention, however, even from this distance. It was _beautiful_. The dragon felt the familiar urge stirring in her stomach that all dragons possessed when searching for another treasure to add to their collection. But accompanied with the urge was a whisper without a voice, a feeling of great exigency from the power of the earth itself, demanding of her to save the woman and gain possession of the blade for a deeper purpose. Compelled by the Old Religion, Nieryn acted.

With a mighty roar Nieryn dived, snapping her wings close to her body. She barreled towards the earth, the speed exhilarating and sending familiar tingles of pleasure down her long spine. At the right moment she snapped her wings open and circled around, reducing her speed and drawing closer and closer to the trees. Her earlier roar had gone unnoticed since she had been so high in the heavens but now she was very close to the ground and perfectly capable of being heard. Drawing in a deep breath, she allowed her guttural cry to shake the treetops, adding a bit of fire for show.

The humans below screamed with sudden fear, unprepared for an attack from above, let alone from a dragon. The men started scrambling this way and that as Nieryn circled around one last time before forcing her way between two stubborn trees, resting her scaly feet on the soft forest floor. With another roar, she let loose a second burst of flame and the remaining men ran for their lives, abandoning their previous intent to rob their opponents. Speaking of, where were those two? Nieryn turned her head around to see them trying to sneak away through the trees.

"And just where do you two think you are going?" she asked, her voice a lovely alto in pitch.

They both froze, their eyes wide in disbelief and fear as they turned fully to face her. While humans judged those they encountered by the outward appearance, a dragon judged the soul within and Nieryn could see that the two souls before her were pure and true of heart. Oddly they reminded her a little of Merlin.

The woman's soul was a brilliant purple in color, integrity and compassion laced through the fabric of her spirit. The man was a wondrous shade of green, honesty and determination radiating from his inner core. They were choice souls, Nieryn could tell, and she sensed they had been woven deeply into the fabrics of Destiny, the woman more so than the man. She watched as they shuffled hesitantly forward, their nerves evident in the way they held their weapons in their clenched fists. Nieryn crossed her front legs together and reared her head, waiting to see what they would do.

"You spoke," the woman stated, her shock mirrored in her companion's eyes.

Nieryn's body shook as she chuckled. "But of course."

"I didn't know dragons could do that," she admitted a little sheepishly.

"There is much that the world of men does not know concerning my kind," she answered with a smile.

The two didn't really know what to say to that. The woman cleared her throat and hesitantly asked, "Um, do you have a name?"

"It is Nieryn. Will you give me yours?"

"I'm Guinevere and this is my brother, Elyan."

Nieryn's eyes widened as her inner eye was suddenly opened to a vision of Guinevere standing on a dais clothed in the garbs of royalty, her brother to her right as a knight, sporting the crest of the Once and Future King on his bright red cape. The two of them were laughing alongside a man with golden hair and brilliant blue eyes, a crown of gold reflecting the color of his soul. Next to this man was Nieryn's very own Merlin, the warlock dressed in his trademark neckwear and elegant robes of blue, his face filled with happiness and laughter. The vision closed and it took a great amount of effort for Nieryn not to cry; the amount of joy she had seen in the vision had not been present in Merlin's life for many years. She stared down at Guinevere and Elyan with gratitude. They would one day play an instrumental part in restoring the happiness her beloved warlock had lost.

"It is a pleasure to meet ones so favored by Destiny," she replied bowing her head respectively to Guinevere.

The young maiden's eyes widened. "Finna and Alice said Destiny has chosen me to aid the Once and Future King. Is that true?"

Nieryn smiled. "It is true. That is one of the reasons I felt the need to rescue you from those awful men."

"Thanks for that," Elyan sincerely replied. "We are in your debt."

"Indeed you are," Nieryn agreed, her eyes falling on the sword in Guinevere's hand. "And I believe I have a proposition on how to resolve that issue."

"What might that be?" Elyan asked nervously, stepping unconsciously in front of his sister.

Nieryn chuckled. "Contrary to the tales of your people, Sir Elyan, dragons do not enjoy feasting upon the flesh of men. We prefer animals. We also are notorious for collecting items. Each dragon has a different interest, you see, and mine is invested in metalwork – swords in particular."

Guinevere looked down at the sword in her hand before clasping it tightly to her chest. Her eyes reflected her reluctance to part with it and Nieryn could understand why. It was one of the most beautiful swords in the land. She longed to have it but a greater longing came from the Old Religion. This sword had a destiny, a destiny that could not be fulfilled if it remained with the Once and Future Queen.

"That sword in your hands, my dear," Nieryn began, "who crafted it?"

"My father," she reluctantly admitted. "It is his best work. He gave it to me in hopes it would bring me luck on my journey to find the Once and Future King."

"He possesses a remarkable gift," Nieryn complimented. "This blade is one of the finest I have ever seen."

"Thank you. You understand why I am reluctant to part with it?"

The dragon smiled understandingly. "I do but I am afraid that it is the only way to repay me."

"And if we refuse to give it to you?" Elyan challenged.

 _My, he is a brave one, isn't he?_ Nieryn thought, amused. Though she wasn't one to threaten, she realized that the only way to retrieve the sword was to intimidate them.

"I'm afraid that I will have to take your lives as payment instead."

"But – what about our destiny?" Guinevere demanded, trying to mask the terror in her eyes behind a false sense of bravado.

"Destinies can be changed depending on one's choices, Lady Guinevere," Nieryn chuckled. "If you choose to not give me the sword, you are choosing to end whatever your life could have been. There are two paths laid in front of you. Which is more appealing? Personally, I would choose the one that doesn't end in fire," she sweetly added with the best draconic smile she could muster.

Guinevere and Elyan shared a look of alarm. In quiet tones they began to whisper; unfortunately for them, dragons had remarkable hearing abilities.

"She doesn't give us much choice, does she?" Elyan grumbled.

"What are we to do, Elyan? This is father's best sword! I promised him I'd take very good care of it."

"I know you did but we weren't counting on having a dragon save us and demand it as a reward. You brought three other swords, Gwen, so if you give it to her you won't be left defenseless. Besides, I don't think father will be too upset that you chose to keep your life rather than his sword."

"How do we know she won't just roast us and take the sword anyway?" Guinevere argued.

At that, Nieryn snorted with laughter. Both humans looked up, surprised. Realizing she'd been caught, the silver dragon shifted a little guiltily. "Forgive me," she confessed, "dragons have extraordinary hearing."

Trying to compose her shock, Guinevere cleared her throat and stared the beast right in the eye. "Well then, do you care to answer?"

Nieryn nodded, trying not to grin. "If you give me the sword willingly, you will be allowed to go on your way. If you do not, then yes, you will die and I will take the sword."

"So either way, you win," Elyan said sourly.

Nieryn shrugged. "Yes. So, what will it be, hatchlings? Life or death?"

"Hatchlings?" Guinevere muttered. Elyan shrugged. The two shared a silent look before Guinevere sighed and held her father's sword out to Nieryn. "Thank you for saving our lives. Please take this as a gesture of our gratitude."

Nieryn used her magic to remove the sword from Guinevere's outstretched hands. The blade floated through the air towards her right front leg where she kept a holster for the swords she collected. Around her leg, mounted between two thick leather bands, were scabbards. The sword slipped into an empty one and two smaller leather straps crisscrossed around the hilt before fusing with the scabbard, locking it in place so it wouldn't slip out as she flew. Admiring her new treasure, Nieryn turned back to Guinevere and Elyan who both stiffened in dread. The dragon was somewhat hurt by their lack of faith in her promise but she had to remind herself that she was the first real dragon they had ever encountered and the stories of men concerning her kind often fabricated them as evil, selfish beasts.

Trying to put them at ease, she smiled and took a step back. "Thank you very much," she said. "I promise I will take good care of this sword. It was made with love, a power greater than even magic. I will treasure it forever."

Guinevere's fear seemed to melt away at the dragon's sincerity. "Thank you," she simply replied.

Nieryn nodded. "It was a pleasure to meet you both. Perhaps one day we shall meet again?"

"Perhaps," Elyan hesitantly smiled.

Nieryn turned to go but curiosity got the better of her. "You said you were searching for the Once and Future King?"

"That's right," Guinevere nodded. "I was told to meet him at the Valley of the Fallen Kings."

Nieryn pondered that for a moment. Hmmm… perhaps…? She felt a gentle nudge of approval from the Old Religion and grinned. That was all the reassurance she needed. Nodding one last time to Guinevere and Elyan she spread her wings and lifted off the ground.

"Good luck, Lady Guinevere and Sir Elyan," she called as she aimed once more for the sky. "May you find that which you seek!"

Angling her body towards Dragon Country, the silver dragon defied the pressure of the earth, rocketing through the air at speeds no creature below could ever hope to reach. The familiar hills of home soon stretched out before her and the dragon sighed in happiness as she saw several of her children flying about amidst the clouds. Passing over the hilltops, she reached the destination of her hoard; a cave located only a league away from the village of the dragonlords. She landed gracefully but was startled by an unexpected roar as the force of a beast twice the size of Kilgharrah slammed into her side. Knocked off balance, she tumbled end over end for at least thirty feet before coming to a stop near the river that ran through the woods near her cave.

"Merlin!" she complained, rolling off her back and turning to face the humongous black dragon grinning sheepishly at her a few feet away.

"Sorry Nieryn," he apologized, the red triangular shape at the base of his dragon neck bobbing nervously as he swallowed. "I didn't think you'd roll so far."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she demanded, fire erupting from her nostrils.

Merlin immediately backtracked. "Nothing!"

"Are you saying I'm larger than I should be since I rolled so far?"

"No!"

Nieryn growled, staring up at him, her eyes flashing dangerously. It certainly would look comical to an observer since Merlin was three times Nieryn's size and yet cowering like a hatchling before her.

"Good!" Nieryn stated, drawing away, "I would hate to incinerate you in your human form after all."

Merlin snorted. "Like you ever could."

Nieryn sighed. Curse that boy for knowing how much sway he held over her! Merlin was the only man alive –besides his father– that could get Nieryn to do anything. It must be something in their particular dragonlord blood because every one of Merlin's ancestors had been able to do it too. To his credit, Merlin's ancestor was the first dragonlord and Nieryn and Kilgharrah were the first dragons so it must be fated. Still, it was annoying that out of all the dragonlords she'd bonded with, the strongest connection she felt was to Merlin and he hadn't even inherited the gift yet! She cringed at the thought of what might happen once he _did_ become a dragonlord. She would be clay in his hands.

Trying to regain some of her dignity, Nieryn strutted past him towards her cave and, like always, Merlin followed after her. Since he was now too large to fit into the space as a dragon he transformed back into a man at the cave entrance.

Nieryn chuckled. "I remember when you were small enough to fit in here in your dragon form."

"Me too," Merlin sighed. "I've been working on a spell that will shrink my size though. Obviously I haven't had success just yet but it'll come."

Nieryn smiled. "Well, if anyone can figure out how to do it, Emrys could."

Merlin stiffened, glaring up at the dragon. "Nieryn," he complained.

She suppressed another laugh. "Forgive me. If anyone can figure how to do it, _Merlin_ could. Better?"

"Much," Merlin said gratefully.

Nieryn immediately regretted bringing up his druidic name for Merlin's cheery mood had dampened to its usual melancholy state. The small twinkle in his eye disappeared, the smile turning into an all out frown. The dragon sighed and halted in her progress towards the deeper part of her cave where she stored her treasures. Familiar with the routine, Merlin sat on the cool stone floor and Nieryn joined him, bringing her head around until it rested in his lap.

"What seems to be the problem today, Merlin?" she implored.

The mighty warlock sighed, leaning his head back against the stone wall and exposing his Adam's apple. Nieryn was hit by a sense of nostalgia as she looked at Magic's living form. For so long he had been nothing but a babe to her – even when she taught him how to turn into a dragon he was small - but the being before her now was no longer the little one she had always known. He was a man, a man who had suffered immense pain in the beginnings of his adulthood. He'd lost his best friend and ever since then, he had never been the same. Nieryn wished she could fix what had happened but it was no use. Fate was in control and she could only stand by and watch with bated breath to see what it decided to do. Hopefully the Once and Future King would one day forgive Emrys and accept his destiny. If he did not then both Albion and Merlin were doomed.

"I wish I wasn't Emrys," Merlin muttered bitterly.

"None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin," a deep voice spoke from the back of the cave.

"And none of us can escape it," Merlin finished, rolling his eyes as Kilgharrah came into view. "I _know_ , Kilgharrah. You've told me a hundred times."

Nieryn lifted her head and nuzzled her crown against the golden dragon's in love and welcome. Kilgharrah was the largest dragon of their race, their offspring reaching only half his size like that of their mother. He had been rather peeved to find Merlin could change into a dragon far larger than he and Nieryn wouldn't be surprised if he would support the warlock's strange idea to shrink his size on a whim. Perhaps he would even personally delve into the required magicks Merlin explored to help him discover how to do it.

"If you know then why do you refuse to listen?" Kilgharrah asked as he settled next to his mate.

"Maybe because everything you say comes out as a riddle," Merlin snapped. "Why do you think I don't like talking to you anymore? Your words confused me more as a child than anything else!"

"And they seem to aggravate you worse than ever," Kilgharrah chuckled.

Nieryn smacked his back leg with her tail and sent him a warning glance. _"Dearest_ , Merlin has come here in need of support and counsel. Do not provoke him."

The Great Dragon scowled but conceded with a nod. "Very well. Why do you wish not to be Emrys _this_ _time_ , Merlin?" he asked.

"My father wants to send me away again."

"Really?" Nieryn questioned. "But didn't he do that two summers ago when he made you visit the Northern Druidic Tribes?"

"Yes," Merlin groaned, folding his arms and drawing his knees to his chest. "But this time he wants me to go to the Southern Druids. They specialize in dreams."

"And have you been having strange dreams?" Kilgharrah probed.

Merlin sighed and nodded. "They don't make any sense. They're like flashes of images. I can't see anything clearly before the scene changes but I can tell you that in one of the scenes I watch… Arthur… die." The warlock wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, sniffling. "I know it's been years since we… but I still _worry_ … I still _care_ … I just want…"

Merlin hung his head and started to cry, his soul broken. Nieryn and Kilgharrah shared despairing looks before the silver dragon bent her head low. Merlin latched onto it and cried against the side of her snout, his body shaking uncontrollably.

 _So much heartbreak… and it was entirely an accident_ , she silently mourned.

 _It was ill-timing but it was what Fate decided should come to pass_ , Kilgharrah sighed.

 _I know but look what it's done to him. He's_ broken _, Kilgharrah. We all know it. No amount of tutoring with druids can fix this. Balinor should realize that._

 _He's desperate, Nieryn. He's tried everything else. He even found a bride for the warlock!_

 _Yes, but even though Freya restored Merlin's hope she cannot heal this pain._

 _There's only one person who can do that._

 _I know,_ Nieryn grieved. _But will he ever change his mind?_

 _He's a Pendragon. Their stubbornness knows no bounds_.

 _But surely he is suffering just as much as Merlin is? Though they don't know it, they are two sides of the same coin after all._

 _I don't know, Nieryn. His father –_

 _Arthur is_ not _his father!_ Nieryn interrupted. _He knew about Merlin's magic from the day they met and the two were inseparable for years! His heart is broken just as much as Merlin's is, I know it! Besides, he's destined to be the Once and Future King. He could never be a tyrant like Uther was._

 _Choice can change Destiny, Nieryn. We know that better than anyone._

The silver dragon frowned. _That may be true but we can always lend it a hand._

 _What do you mean?_

She quickly told him of her adventure in the woods and the feelings she felt from the Old Religion when she met Guinevere and Elyan.

 _Destiny is approaching, Kilgharrah, and I know that something is about to happen. I strongly feel that Merlin needs to go to the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Fate is going to draw Arthur there. This sword will bring them back together, I'm sure of it!_

Kilgharrah's eyes widened. _The legend… The sword in the stone! Is this sword…?_

 _Not yet_ , Nieryn murmured. _It needs something_ more _. It must become a weapon worthy of the Once and Future King._

Catching on to what she was suggesting, Kilgharrah frowned. At first it appeared as if he would deny her but then something changed in his eyes and he finally nodded his consent.

 _Very well, I will make the sword for the King – though I personally do not feel he is ready for it._

 _Don't let your feelings for Merlin cloud your judgment_. Nieryn chastened. _Arthur is just as important as he is._

 _He's the one that hurt Merlin in the first place!_ Kilgharrah argued.

 _Yes but at what cost? He also hurt himself. They're bonded, Kilgharrah. When one suffers, the other does also. Making this sword will be the start to healing that bond, I know it. And I know how much you will love being the one who started the process,_ she added seductively.

Kilgharrah scowled. _You're a dangerous dragoness, you know that?_

She winked. _I do what I can._

By now Merlin's sobs had subsided, the twenty three year old petting Nieryn's head absently, completely unaware of the conversation that had just taken place.

"Maybe I should go," he muttered. "Maybe getting away would be easier."

"If you did choose to go, would you take Freya with you?" Nieryn asked.

The first smile she'd seen since Merlin changed back into a man lit his face and the tiny glimpse of a twinkle appeared in his eye. The vision she had in the woods returned and Nieryn longed for the day when Merlin would truly laugh like that.

"Yeah, I think I would," he said fondly.

"Are you finding marriage worthwhile then, young warlock?" asked Kilgharrah, sensing what his mate was trying to do.

A light blush adorned Merlin's high cheekbones and he coughed into his hand, unable to look either dragon in the eye. "It's nice," he hedged.

Kilgharrah and Nieryn shared a knowing grin. "Especially in bed?"

"Nieryn!" Merlin cried, scandalized, his face now on fire.

The silver dragon laughed, her golden mate joining her a second later. The deep chuckles echoed off the cave walls but not in a disturbing way. Merlin sighed before laughing lightly alongside them. Though it wasn't as strong as the one in her vision, it _was_ a laugh and Nieryn counted it as a victory.

"Freya is wonderful," Merlin sighed, his eyes softening as he thought of his new bride. "We've only been married for three weeks but she's really helped me; especially in the last month."

None of them needed to voice why since they all knew that last month was the six year anniversary since the accident.

"I just wish I could be better," Merlin continued, his sadness returning like it always did when his thoughts strayed back to _him_. "Freya deserves someone whole and I'm… well… _not_. Not without…" He hung his head and sighed before abruptly changing the subject. "Do you think I should go? To the Southern Druids?"

Kilgharrah shared a look with Nieryn before shaking his head. "I don't think that is the right path for you at this time, Merlin."

Merlin's brow furrowed. "Then what path should I take? You both know that I don't really feel like I'm fulfilling my purpose."

"Then perhaps, in order to find your purpose, you must find yourself," said Kilgharrah.

"And how would I go about doing that?" Merlin asked bitterly, afraid that Kilgharrah was going to give another one of his useless riddles.

"There is a cave located in the Valley of the Fallen Kings," Nieryn stated. "If you go there, I think you'll find what you've been looking for."

"But how will I know when I've found it?" Merlin wondered, confused.

Kilgharrah and Nieryn both chuckled. "You simply will, Merlin," the silver dragon said, nuzzling him with her snout.

Merlin lightly laughed as he gently swatted her head away from his stomach. "Alright, I'll go. It's better than just sitting around here doing nothing."

The young warlock got up to leave but Nieryn stopped him. "Merlin, before you depart on your journey, come back here. We have something we would like to give to you."

Merlin's forehead scrunched together but he nodded his consent. "I'll be back tonight."

"So soon, young warlock?" Kilgharrah questioned.

Merlin looked up at him and shrugged. "Why not?"

As the greatest sorcerer to ever live walked out of their cave, Nieryn felt something stir deep within her. Turning to her mate, she smiled. "Can you feel that?"

"Indeed I can, my dear," Kilgharrah answered. "It seems that Destiny has finally decided to make its move."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi everyone! I'm super excited to give you guys this one. :)**

 **Enjoy, my dear readers!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 05

Merlin hitched his pack higher on his shoulder before continuing on his way. He'd left Farworyn in the dead of night, leaving a note with his beloved wife to give to his parents; after thinking about how dangerous Camelot was for sorcerers, he'd decided to leave Freya in the safety of Dragon Country. She had been incredibly upset but reluctantly agreed with his logic. The evil King Bane was famous for forcing sorcerers to do his bidding by threatening their families and the last thing Merlin wanted was for Freya to get hurt. She was the only bright thing in his world now that Arthur had…

Merlin shook his head, forcing those thoughts and tears away. He wouldn't think about _him._ He had left Farworyn to find his future not his past.

Keeping his word, Merlin met with Kilgharrah and Nieryn after sharing a rather passionate goodbye with his adoring wife. The two dragons had surprised him with a gift as well as instructions on what to do with it. Kilgharrah presented a weapon with incredible and unthinkable power – a sword forged in his own breath – while Nieryn stated it was meant for the Once and Future King and it was Merlin's job to ensure it ended up in his hands since he was Emrys.

Merlin had learned that he was Emrys when he was ten years old. While he had been terrified of holding such incredible power within his body, he knew with absolute certainty that the prophecy was true and he was meant to serve his eventual King in any way he could. Since then he'd spent many nights wondering what kind of man his King would be. Deep down he held fears that they would only get along because of the mutual understanding of their shared destiny but Merlin desperately wanted a friend as the other half of his coin; someone he could talk to, someone he could confide in – someone he could lift up when down, someone who could inspire others… someone like…

 _NO! Stop it, Merlin!_ he inwardly chastened, _You can't entertain that idea. Not anymore. It's impossible._

Because the prophecy stated the man who would one day be the Once and Future King would reclaim his throne. That meant whoever he was, he was royal – and Arthur certainly was not. His father may have been a knight but he had never been a king; as much as Merlin wished that he were. How great that would be, having Arthur as his sovereign…

Tears unbidden welled in the warlock's eyes as he was crushed by the usual despair that filled his chest when thinking about his friend.

"It's not going to happen, Merlin," he muttered aloud. "He'll never forgive you and he's not even royalty so stop hoping for something that you know can never be."

Disheartened, he rubbed his eyes dry and forced the feelings and thoughts of his dearest friend away. He had to focus on his task. He'd chosen to fly most of the journey but when reaching the border between Camelot and Essetir he felt it prudent to travel on foot; he didn't want to draw too much attention to himself. Having transformed near a village called Ealdor, Merlin avoided the community altogether by walking around it towards the low valley that would lead him right into Camelot.

He kept the magical sword in a scabbard at his waist; his pack full of neckerchiefs, clothes, and food being the only other burden he decided to carry on his back. Knowing he was about to walk into a very dangerous land, he kept his magic on high alert, using it to see the path ahead and making course corrections to avoid ambushes and large parties of alarming-looking men.

After two hours of evading threatening situations, he decided it might be safer to just make himself invisible and use a spell to cover his tracks. Successfully performing the enchantments, Merlin then happily stayed on the main trail, walking through several camps belonging to bandits and mercenaries without them even knowing he was there. Grinning, he would sometimes spook one or two by pulling on their hoods or whispering warnings in their ear; it was quite entertaining to see grown men dithering about like a bunch of frightened birds.

When night came, Merlin would find a secluded spot and settle in, making sure to cast warning spells that would wake him should any try to ambush him as he slept. His alarms went off once or twice and the warlock always managed to slip away before anyone could do him harm. He reached the Valley of the Fallen Kings four days later and immediately set to work looking for a stone suitable for the task Nieryn and Destiny had set him.

His magic led him right to it, a series of little nudges from the power within guiding his every move. The stone was fairly round, its surface white near the top and covered in moss at the bottom where it connected with the forest floor. It sat outside the Valley in the center of a clearing, the woods surrounding it forming a protective circle as if they were sentinels guarding a precious gift. The afternoon sun managed to find its way through the thick leaves of the protective trees, bathing the clearing in a sacred glow. Leaves and twigs littered the ground amidst a few patches of wild flowers. The whole setting felt like a shrine to the Triple Goddess and the hairs on Merlin's arms stood on end as he stepped up to the stone and placed his hand upon the smooth surface.

"It is here that my King will be born," he whispered aloud to the trees.

He slowly removed the sword from its scabbard and rested the blade in his outstretched palms. Slightly bowing his head, he reached for the magic given to him at birth, the magic that belonged solely to one man.

" _ **For min gumfréa,"**_ he stated, his eyes opening wide as the magic lit them from within.

Raising the blade high, he slammed its point into the center of the rock, the sword slipping effortlessly into the stone. Merlin stopped the downward thrust when it was halfway submerged, its brown and gold hilt and plaited surface – sustaining words of the Old Religion – now glinting in the sunlight. Because of his muttered spell only the True King could remove the blade from its prison. Smiling at the scene, the warlock turned away and walked out of the clearing in search of a safe location to settle while waiting for his Destiny to arrive as Nieryn had promised.

[][][]

Gwen had been more than relieved when she and Elyan reached the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Camelot's outer lands seemed to be crawling with bandits. It had been a miracle they'd even made it to the Valley at all! If she hadn't been told this adventure was part of her destiny, Gwen would have returned to Nemeth with all due speed. It wasn't until she and Elyan had passed the large stone sentinels at the Valley's entrance that the third round of bandits they'd come across finally stopped pursuing them. Some of them even shouted out warnings, stating that both would die if they ventured into such a place. Brother and sister decided to take their chances with the superstitions than facing the ruffians.

The Valley was indeed eerie, a light fog dwelling across the ground near the entrance where the statues stood. Stone carvings of heads and small animals were scattered within the natural rock of the gorge like silent guardians; at one point Gwen thought their stone eyes were actually watching her. As they explored, they deduced the Valley went on for at least a mile, with smaller gorges branching off the sides of it; leaves and moss clung to the rocks that made up the entire peculiar structure.

Their first night in the Valley was spent in one of the smaller gorges huddled close to a fire, brother and sister fearful of going to sleep. The very air stirred with some mystical force and though Gwen and Elyan were not afraid of magic, they had been taught not to treat it lightly. It had been a very fitful sleep for both of them and when they woke each had experienced strange dreams that didn't make any sense.

"I don't like it here," Elyan muttered as he set to work making them breakfast. "Something about this place just doesn't feel right."

"I know what you mean," Gwen agreed, rubbing her arms and scooting closer to the fire.

Elyan passed her a piece of bread and some dried meat before hesitantly asking, "Do you really think he'll come?"

"That's what I was told," Gwen replied, knowing he spoke of the King.

Elyan sighed. "I'm not going to discard the words of a sorceress but I do hope this King of yours comes sooner than later."

A twig snapped, halting further conversation. Gwen's eyes widened in fear and she and Elyan both went for their swords. Another twig snapped, closer this time, accompanied by the slither of several leaves shifting across the ground. Elyan quickly doused the fire and both brother and sister edged for the sides of the gorge, their blades held at the ready. Gwen's heart pounded in her chest, her muscles tightening in anticipation for whatever may be on the other side of the rock. She had hoped that it would be the long awaited King but she wasn't about to drop her guard; for all she knew, the unwelcomed visitor could be the bandits from yesterday. It therefore came as quite a shock when the intruder turned out to neither a King nor a bandit but a _dragon._

The dragon seemed just as shocked to see them as they were to see it, its blue eyes widening in surprise. It was a stunning creature, probably the most beautiful Gwen had ever seen, and though it was no larger than a horse, its spirit was commanding and powerful. A small patch of red rested against its throat, the color standing out against the rest of its sleek black scales which radiated with the pure energy of magic. It had four menacingly sharp claws, three in front and one behind on each foot, with ridged spikes that traveled from its head down to its tail, the largest found atop its back.

"Gwen, don't make any sudden moves," Elyan whispered fearfully, his eyes fixated on the creature's every move.

Noticing that her brother was preparing himself to strike, Gwen immediately began to protest, "Elyan, you can't! It's a dragon!"

"Yes and we both know from plenty of stories that they're capable of doing horrific things," Elyan bit back.

"Nieryn didn't do anything."

"She took our father's sword."

"But she didn't actually hurt us."

"Just because one dragon didn't does not mean the rest of them won't. Besides, do you remember Old Man Ferris? He lost his leg because of one of them!"

"Then he must have been provoking them," someone interrupted reproachfully, "since dragons don't attack unless they're being threatened."

Gwen and Elyan gasped, spinning around to stare at the dragon.

It looked highly amused as it sat back on its haunches. "Sorry I startled you. I'm Merlin. Care to tell me what brings the two of you to the Valley of the Fallen Kings?"

Gwen and Elyan shared a hesitant glance before the young maiden brushed her thick curls away from her face and stepped closer to the dragon.

"My name is Guinevere but everyone calls me Gwen. This is my brother, Elyan. We've traveled from Nemeth to this Valley because a sorceress told me I was supposed to meet and aid the Once and Future King here."

"Oi!" Elyan cried in outrage. "Whatever happened to not telling anyone why we're here?"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "That was while we were traveling to the Valley, Elyan. Besides, Merlin is a dragon, not a human."

Merlin flicked his tail and looked at the ground. He almost looked guilty but then the dragon grinned and nodded, his eyes sparkling bright. "She's right. You can trust me."

Elyan, however, narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you."

Merlin's grin fell a little. "Look, you're the first people I've run into in the Valley and frankly this place is a little eerie, even for a dragon. The magic here is different than anywhere I've ever been. It's familiar but not at the same time. And I'd honestly feel better being in the company of others than on my own, especially since you're here for the same reason I am."

"You're here to meet the King too?" Gwen asked curiously.

Merlin nodded. "I was told by the Great Dragon Kilgharrah and his mate Nieryn – who you seem to know? – that he would come here."

"We do know her! She saved us a few days ago." Gwen briefly shared the story and by the end Merlin looked both amused and contemplative.

"I'm glad she was able to help you," he said at last.

"So are we," Gwen smiled. "Say, since we're all here to meet up with the King, why don't you stay with us, Merlin?"

"Is that alright?" he asked, staring at her brother.

Elyan didn't look at all thrilled about the prospect of staying near a dragon but the pleading look in his sister's eyes won him over. Sighing, he placed his sword back between his belt and hip before marching up to Merlin and fixing him with the usual 'protective-big-brother' stare.

"If you do anything to harm us in any way, I won't hesitate to remove your head," he warned.

Merlin looked both impressed and unnerved by his bravery. "You have my word," he sincerely stated, his blue eyes unwavering from Elyan's determined glare, "no harm will come to you or your sister by my hand."

"Or your magic?" Elyan pressed.

Merlin raised one scaly black eyebrow before chuckling. "Or my magic," he promised. "Not that I ever would use it for such a purpose. Most people forget that dragons are made up of more than just tough scale and thick muscle. You seem to know quite a bit about magic."

"We've learned to appreciate it," Gwen said as Elyan finally backed off. "A sorcerer rescued us years ago from the evil King Bane."

Gwen then shared how she and her parents had escaped from Camelot and come to live in Penryn. Merlin was a good listener. He had settled himself around their fire – having relit it with a small breath of flame – and kept his gaze attentive as Gwen and Elyan then proceeded to fill him in on their life in Nemeth and the journey that had brought them here.

"Have you been here a long time?" Gwen asked when Merlin stretched his wings before resettling in a different position.

The dragon shook his head. "I actually arrived this morning. I'm from Farworyn. It's a large village in Essetir found near the beginnings of Dragon Country."

"Are there a lot of dragons there?" asked Gwen.

Merlin looked sad, his folded wings lowering a little as his head bowed. "Not many remain from the time of Uther Pendragon's Purge. That man tried to kill the entire dragon race! His ruthless actions also caused the deaths of many dragonlords. Their abilities were passed on to their sons but none of them were ready for such responsibility – many were under the age of five when their fathers were killed!

"My fa – I mean – the Chieftain of the Dragonlords, Balinor, is the only dragonlord left of his generation. He has been teaching the other dragonlords how to harness their powers since the Purge ended. When they are ready, these new dragonlords will use their abilities to bring forth new dragons from their eggs, fixing the damage caused by Uther all those years ago. The dragon race will grow and the dragonlords will thrive once again."

"I'm sorry this happened to your people," Elyan consoled. "Uther Pendragon's actions affected many lives as did his death. This land fell into corruption and with its fall the surrounding kingdoms have slowly descended into what I fear may be a full out war."

"Which is why it is so important for the Once and Future King to appear," said Gwen. "He alone can unite the lands and restore peace."

Elyan perked up at this. "Merlin, you said Nieryn and another dragon told you to come here. Did they tell you when the King was going to show up?"

Merlin sighed. "No, they only said to wait. But he will come soon," he added with conviction.

"How can you know that?" Gwen asked, wondering if maybe his dragon magic could be used to see the future.

"Just a feeling," Merlin smiled.

Elyan looked up at the darkening sky. "We should try to find some food before it gets too dark."

Merlin stood. "Allow me. I can hunt faster than you and I'm sure I can bring back enough to last us a couple days. Besides, if you're right and these woods are crawling with bandits, it would be safer if I ventured out into the Valley while you two stayed behind."

"We might be able to find something in here," Elyan pointed out but Merlin shook his head.

"This is hallowed ground for those with magic," he explained. "It would be unwise for any traveler to kill while in this Valley. No good would come of it. Wait here; I will return in an hour."

The dragon spread his wings and took off, flying over the top of the small gorge and out of sight. Gwen turned her gaze back to her brother and smiled slightly.

"What do you think of him?"

"I think he's hiding something," Elyan answered, breaking a long stick before poking the fire with the longer end.

"Of course he's hiding something, Elyan, he's a dragon. They always have secrets."

"They also have hoards. How do we know he doesn't collect people?"

Gwen snorted. "I've never heard of a dragon collecting people, Elyan. Besides, don't you remember what Nieryn said? They don't like eating people so what use would they have in collecting them?"

"To make them do whatever they want? To serve them? I don't know!" Elyan grumbled. "All we know is that he says he's here for the Once and Future King. Wait! What if he collects _royalty?"_

Gwen instantly scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous! Dragons like to expand their collections as much as possible and, as far as I know, royalty is short in supply. Besides, if dragons collected them then there would be no one to rule the lands and since there are plenty of kings and queens lavishing in castles I think it's safe to assume they're not on a possible hoarding list."

"Alright, fair point," Elyan groused. "But I'd feel a lot better knowing just exactly what he likes to collect; I'm not too keen on losing another sword to a dragon."

"Well, when he comes back we can ask," Gwen stated, getting up to place more firewood over the fire.

About an hour later Merlin returned, a dead doe clutched in his claws. He looked somewhat sad as he rested the deer upon the ground in front of Elyan who immediately began the process of preparing the meat. Merlin didn't watch his movements, instead wandering over to the fire and curling his body around himself, his tail hugging his form. Concerned, Gwen walked over and hesitantly placed a hand on Merlin's head. The dragon stiffened but did not push her away.

"Are you alright?" she gently asked.

"I don't like killing things," Merlin mumbled, allowing his head to rest in her lap, "even if it's necessary."

Gwen was certainly surprised to hear this. The pain and regret in the dragon's voice wasn't fake, the remorse clear in not only the words but his actions. His body shook with every sharp sound that came from Elyan's knife working on the doe.

"It was so scared," Merlin whispered, his closed eyes producing a tear. "I wish that I didn't have to but…"

"Oh, Merlin," Gwen comforted, lifting his head to her shoulder and wrapping her arms around his scaly neck, "Thank you. I'm sure it wasn't easy."

"It never is."

Gwen had met several tender souls in her life but never had she thought she'd meet the tenderest in the form of a dragon. Merlin stayed very close to her, like a child in need, his head staying firmly in her lap, his eyes shut and pressed close against her torso. Elyan looked up at one point from his work but when Gwen caught his concerned glance she merely shook her head. Sending a look asking her to explain later, he went back to finishing cleaning out the deer.

Elyan prepared some of the meat to be dried before taking the rest over to the fire. He glanced at the disturbed dragon still being comforted by Gwen and bit his lip. "Um, excuse me?"

Merlin's eyes opened and he hastily removed his head from Gwen's lap. "I am so sorry," he stuttered out an apology.

Gwen immediately grabbed his head to steady him. "Merlin, it's alright," she smiled. "I truly didn't mind."

Merlin glanced nervously at Elyan. The latter caught Gwen's glare and hastily added, "Gwen's always been great at consoling people. I just wanted to ask if you wanted your meat raw or cooked. I don't really know how dragons eat."

The very thought of raw food made Merlin look sick. "Cooked please," he said.

"Alright then," Elyan smiled, reaching for a large enough stick that he could rest over the fire.

"Allow me," Merlin offered.

"Oh, um, sure," Elyan backed away.

He and Gwen watched in amazement as Merlin took a deep breath before letting fire escape his maw, the intense flame engulfing the raw venison but remarkably not lighting the rest of the forest ablaze. What would have taken hours had taken seconds, the meat now cooked and smoking hot.

"It should cool off in a little bit," Merlin muttered, resettling back next to Gwen.

"Thank you," she smiled, rubbing his scaly cheek.

Merlin smiled at her, lightly leaning into the touch. "You're welcome."

As soon as the meat was ready to eat, Gwen and Elyan took their fair share before leaving the rest for Merlin; they gave him the larger portion since his stomach was certainly bigger than theirs. The dragon ate everything they left though Gwen had to admit he seemed to be rather clumsy eating with just his mouth. The meat tore from the bones of the deer, large chunks getting stuck in his sharp teeth. Gwen, while laughing, would sometimes help him reach the venison his tongue couldn't seem to.

"Are you a baby dragon?" she chuckled.

"No," Merlin huffed indignantly. "It's just hard to eat like this."

Elyan raised an eyebrow. "How else would you eat?"

Merlin froze a minute before readjusting his haunches. "I normally don't eat anything right off the bone," he hastily explained, looking away from the two of them. "My… dragonlord removes the meat."

"Oh, I can do that if it'll make things easier for you," Gwen offered.

"Oh, no, that's okay," Merlin said, reaching down and taking another chunk of meat between his teeth, "I have to learn sometime, don't I? Besides, I can't be with my dragonlord all the time – I mean, I'm obviously not with him now seeing as I'm here and he's not!"

"Who is your dragonlord?" asked Elyan.

"Erm – his name is… Dragoon!" Merlin said, his eyes darting back and forth.

"Dragoon?" questioned Gwen. "That's… an interesting name…"

"Almost sounds made up," Elyan opined, his eyes narrowed.

Merlin swallowed his chunk of meat and shrugged his shoulders. "I always thought so but that's his name. He's an odd fellow – rather kind though. He was very supportive of me coming out here actually."

"About that," Elyan interrupted, "why are you so interested in the Once and Future King?"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "I think what Elyan is trying to find out is what you collect, Merlin. He thinks you might hoard royalty."

Merlin stared at the two for a moment before bursting out laughing. His laughter seemed to brighten the darkness and Gwen couldn't help feeling happy just hearing the sound. Even Elyan seemed content from the noise. When Merlin resettled, humor still danced within his ethereal blue eyes.

"I most definitely do not collect people, Elyan," he assured. "And I can't think of any dragon that would. No offense but people can be quite unpredictable. Besides, they aren't pets. If you must know, I collect neckerchiefs."

"Do you really?" Gwen asked curiously while Elyan stared in surprise and disbelief.

"Of all things to collect…" he muttered before laughing, "you collect neck wear?"

Merlin looked offended. "You know, you're not the first person to make fun of me for it. Regardless, that's what I like."

"Did you bring your collection with you? Or is your dragonlord keeping watch over it while you're gone?"

"I brought it with me," Merlin said, smiling. "Besides, dragonlords have their own hoards to protect."

"Dragonlords have hoards?" Gwen asked, surprised.

Merlin chuckled, "Yes, they do; it's one of the quirks they share with their dragon kin. Balinor collects whittled items, for example."

"What does Dragoon collect?" Elyan wondered.

Merlin coughed. "Um, he also collects neckerchiefs actually – which is why I wouldn't leave mine behind with him. He might try to steal some of my favorites!"

Elyan and Gwen both burst out laughing and Merlin soon joined them though his laughter seemed a little forced.

"Can we see your collection?" Gwen asked once the laughter died down.

"I can show it to you tomorrow," Merlin promised. "It's deeper in the Valley and I don't think it safe to travel through this place at night."

"Fair point," Elyan agreed.

The conversation soon moved on to other things, Gwen and Elyan asking Merlin to tell them further stories of Farworyn and dragonfolk. Merlin happily obliged, his eyes lit with happiness as he answered their questions before asking some of his own, learning more about the brother and sister than simply where they were from. Later they realized they had been talking for hours and felt like they'd known each other their whole lives. Gwen made the suggestion that they get to sleep and soon both she and Elyan were settled on their bedrolls. Merlin curled up close to Gwen, one of his wings curling over his head like a tent. The young maiden smiled.

"Goodnight Merlin," she whispered before saying the same to her brother and rolling onto her side.

"Goodnight, Gwen," a muffled reply came from under the dragon's wing.

That first night eventually became many, the three growing closer together as the sun and moon cycled each other in a constant dance, and before Gwen knew it, two weeks had passed.

[][][]

It had been twenty four years since he'd traveled into the past and changed history – twenty four years of living a life filled with every luxury a mortal man could desire – and yet Mordred was not satisfied.

How could he be when all he had done was rid the world of Uther Pendragon? He may have stopped the Purge and created a land where sorcery was superior but the shadows of his future still tormented him in the night. Arthur and Merlin were still alive – along with their precious friends and wives – and _, for some infuriatingly unknown reason_ , every attempt Mordred made at trying to find them these last two decades had ended in failure.

The only good fortune he'd been awarded was influencing the Lady Morgana into becoming the High Priestess she was today. The night he conquered Uther's kingdom he'd found her in the castle, a little child so helpless and alone. She'd been scared of him at first but, as he dotted on her, she came to love him. When she was eight he sent her to the Isle of the Blessed to harness her growing abilities and now she was a prodigy, the strongest High Priestess on the island. He visited her once in a while, for sake of good company, and each time she sent him the loving smile he had come seeking, renewing his spirit and his purpose.

He also kept tabs on his younger self and Kara; the two of them dwelt in a druid encampment in the Forest of Ascetir. His heart always softened when he saw his beloved. Though she was young, she was still just as beautiful. He longed for her but his desires were suppressed with the knowledge that revealing who he truly was would spell disaster for his younger self's new future. He was not willing to compromise the happiness he had gained no matter if that meant he had to live a life of secret heartache.

Mordred knew that most considered him a tyrant but he didn't care for those opinions. They did not know the future he had prevented so they could not fully appreciate what he had done for them and their posterity. He may force sorcerers to do his bidding but it was for the greater good. Magic was meant to rule the world and he would never allow muggles the chance to destroy that reality. They were the lesser species, created to serve those with the superior power.

The muggles living in his kingdom had finally become conditioned to their correct lifestyle, obeying any order he gave and bowing to their magical betters. For their subservience he rewarded them with good harvest and roofs over their heads. Any who disobeyed or broke his laws was immediately executed through magical means. His preferred form of execution was the pyre but occasionally he took pleasure in watching the life leave the disobedient eyes as he choked criminals to death. Each time a death occurred he would count it as a victory against Uther for all the sorcerers he had slaughtered.

Today marked one of those victories. Some young upstart had thought of starting a rebellion in the outer villages near the borders of Gawant. Mordred had sent Regalis and a squadron of knights to eradicate the problem. They had just scried their success, reporting that they had destroyed all those who had desecrated his name and tried to fight against them. Mordred sighed, stepping away from the scrying bowl.

"My lord?" Cecil prompted.

Mordred looked up, realizing the eyes of his council lay upon him. He smiled reassuringly. "Cease your concerns, Cecil, I'm alright. It just disturbs me that several sorcerers were part of this small rebellion. Can they not see the good I have brought to our kind?"

Cecil placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Some will always be blind, sire, because they refuse to comprehend the truth. We can only continue forward and raze those who oppose us to the ground."

Mordred pulled his arm free from her grip and stood. He knew Cecil fancied him but the woman would never be able to pierce his heart. There was only one who could reign by his side and she was where she was meant to be: with his younger self.

"I agree with you," he smiled. "Regalis and the rest of the knights have done well. We should prepare a feast for when they return. I feel it appropriate to celebrate another victory in the fight for magic."

"An excellent call, my lord," Davel commended.

"I feel like sparring. Shall we retire to the training field?" he asked with a glint in his eye.

A few of the knights looked nervous but all heartily agreed to his proposal, following their king out of the council chambers. Mordred silently reveled in their apprehension. He ruled them by fear – the way it was meant to be – for if your men fear you, they will never betray you.

[][][]

Two days later Mordred sat in his throne, a cheerful smile on his face as he waited for Regalis and his company to enter the receiving hall. His smile faltered a little as he witnessed his First Knight cross the threshold with a disturbed and slightly nervous air. Something had clearly riled him.

Mordred had befriended Regalis first, shortly after appearing in the Forest of Engred in Mercia all those years ago. The young sorcerer had lost his entire family to Uther's madness and was more than willing to support Mordred's cause. Like everyone else, he didn't know Mordred's true name or history. He didn't need to. Mordred had won his loyalty after he'd killed the knights that had pursued him and in turn, he'd earned Mordred's trust when saving him from nearly the same fate by a few of Uther's more trained assassins. The two had been there for each other through the darkest of times and Mordred couldn't have asked for a better friend.

"Regalis, it is good to see you well," he greeted, his concern evident in his eyes as his friend bowed respectfully to him.

"Likewise, sire, though I bring grave tidings," he reluctantly replied.

Mordred's eyes narrowed and the court stirred uncomfortably, Regalis flinching only by the slightest degree. Mordred's anger was a force to be reckoned with and only a fool would ignite such emotion; the king was known for being ruthless to even his greatest supporters if provoked.

"Go on," he commanded.

Regalis swallowed. "Yes, my lord. It would appear that on our journey home we encountered several men in Denaria who shared a rather disturbing tale." He paused.

"Get on with it, Regalis!" Mordred snapped, angered that the man's nerves were causing him to dance around what he was trying to say.

"They found a sword in a stone near the Valley of the Fallen Kings," he blurted out.

Mordred stilled, his body frozen in place. "What?"

The hall became so still it was as if someone had stopped time. No one dared to breathe as the fury of the king radiated throughout the room, the emotion growing with every passing second. Insurmountable fear caused the knights' hearts to slam against their chests while the women prepared to flee towards the nearest doors to avoid the king's wrath should it become manifest in a burst of uncontrolled magic.

While his people quivered in terror, Mordred's mind spiraled into darkness and hatred. A sword embedded in a stone? He knew of only one man who could cause such an anomaly. _Merlin._ Curse that ignoble warlock! How dare he try to meddle with the new regime!

But wait…

If a sword had been found in a stone, and that sword happened to be the legendary Excalibur that only King Arthur could remove, it would mean that Arthur would eventually be brought to it. And if the sword was there now that meant Merlin couldn't be far away. If he could capture Merlin before he could reunite with Arthur then their false destiny would never come to pass; for even if Arthur had the magical blade he would be no match for Mordred without his warlock!

Trying hard to keep his glee from spreading over his face at this revelation, Mordred leaned back in his chair and decided to put on a show.

Keeping his tone casual, he asked, "Do you believe this has to do with that children's tale concerning the Once and Future King – the one where a man will pull a sword from a stone and reclaim the kingdom that has been stolen from him?"

Regalis swallowed, unnerved by his king's lack of anger. "Y-Yes, sire."

To the shock of all present, Mordred began to laugh. "There is no need to concern yourself over a fairytale, Regalis. We all know that story has circulated for years as a means of hope to the misguided and foolish. There is no such thing as the Once and Future King."

"But what of the witnesses of this sword?" Regalis countered. "Forgive me, Bane, but I don't feel it prudent to cast aside such information. Even if it turns out to be nothing but rumor, should we not seek the truth for ourselves?"

Mordred stood. " _Enough._ We do not need to waste effort searching through the woods for a myth. I will hear no more of this and any who dare speak of it further will wish they hadn't. Is that understood?"

Regalis did not look pleased but he surrendered under his king's menacing glare. Amidst the others, he bowed his head in agreement to the sovereign's decision. Again reveling in the power of fear, Mordred swept from the hall, a plan already formulating on how to deal with this situation that threatened to destroy everything he had painstakingly built.

[][][]

Merlin woke in the night, feeling something call his name. Removing his head from beneath his wing, he glanced at Gwen and Elyan but both were sound asleep. The pull came again.

" _Emrys…"_

Merlin's eyes narrowed. Something magical was calling to him – something _remarkably_ powerful.

While the Valley kept his magic on full alert, Merlin found the eeriness of the place strangely comforting. Perhaps that was why he wasn't too disturbed by the draw he was currently feeling? The urge to follow the unknown entity spurred him to his dragon feet and he began to stealthily walk away from his friends sleeping forms.

Despite being a dragon, Merlin had become quite good at leaving the little gorge without waking Elyan and Gwen at night; he mainly only left to relieve himself but, on occasion, a noise would wake him. It never turned out to be any kind of threat but Merlin wasn't about to relax in his vigilance to make certain that all was well. In the last twelve days he'd come to deeply care for Gwen and Elyan. They were the first real friends he'd made since his falling out with Arthur – not counting Freya of course – and he didn't want to see anything bad happen to them.

Following the magical pull that was enticing him further into the main gorge of the Valley, Merlin waited until he was out of Gwen and Elyan's sight before transforming back into a man. He stretched his limps and grinned, happy to be back on two legs. He felt incredibly guilty for not telling Gwen and Elyan the truth – that he was indeed a man – but he had a feeling he shouldn't when he'd first met them. He couldn't understand why he felt he should stay in his dragon form but his feelings had never steered him wrong before; he'd learned the hard way to listen to them too. But sometimes he wanted to go back to being two-legged so every opportunity that presented itself he took without hesitation.

Stumbling slightly on loose roots, Merlin wandered forward, the magic drawing him towards what turned out to be a small cut entrance in the Valley's stone wall. Merlin's breath caught in his throat. The magic pulsating from the cave was the strongest he had ever felt. He suddenly remembered what Nieryn and Kilgharrah had told him _: that he would find himself as he sought out a cave in this Valley_. Was his King in this cavern? Or did this place hold the secret of what he might look like? Merlin's heart started beating excitedly in his chest and he hastened into the dark space without a backward glance.

The cave was pitch black, blocking out the limited light of the moon instantly. Merlin lifted his hand and whispered a spell, a ball of blue energy pulsating into life over his palm. The path ahead was small and the walls were jagged but the rocky terrain didn't bother Merlin in the slightest. In fact, he felt incredibly tranquil. The air was cool and surprisingly fresh, comforting his lungs as he started hiking up a small incline, the path winding out of sight. At the corner, Merlin's magic leapt in excitement and a moment later, the young man knew why.

He was standing in a room filled with crystals, their light blue glow emanating the purest magical energy the warlock had ever felt in his life. The beautiful rocks were clumped together in tight clusters, their surfaces dancing slightly as colors sprayed across them in quick succession. Feeling drawn towards the ethereal stones, Merlin fell to his knees, his eyes staring unblinkingly at a crystal with a large flat surface. His magic flared to life beneath his skin, the effects leaving him both lightheaded and spellbound.

The surface began to swirl, the colors solidifying into images. Merlin's eyes began to water but the magic refused to let him close his lids, filling his mind with scenes the crystal had decided to show him: A man draped in a blue cape sporting a black tree, a wicked gloating smile on his face – a sword releasing from its prison of stone – an army gathered on the outskirts of a great white city – dragonfire reigning down from the heavens, people screaming in terror – death roaming the land as two armies converged – the shadow of a man bathed in silver and red, his hand outstretched towards him, the sword from the stone gleaming in his hand…

Merlin finally jerked away. His lungs were heaving as if he'd run a mile and his head pounded something fierce as tears poured relentlessly down his face. _Pain_. That's what he was feeling; _so much_ pain, heartache, and sorrow. He curled into a ball, cradling his head, his body rocking back and forth.

"What was that?" he gasped, the images parading behind his closed lids unceasingly. "WHAT WAS THAT?!" he screamed, wishing the pain would go away.

He was drowning, his magic screaming in agony as if it were bound beneath his skin, unable to break free. Sorrow stabbed his heart as he once more watched countless people dying in a raging battle, their agonized screams resounding in his ears like a recurring nightmare.

" _Please,"_ he sobbed, _"stop."_

A hand rested on the crown of his head and immediately the heartache threatening to destroy his soul disappeared. The sorrow vanished from his spirit and the pain transformed into a peaceful relief. Merlin sniffled, relishing the contact from the one touching him. They should have been a stranger but somehow they were not. Like a cat in ecstasy, his magic was purring in contentment, recognizing the stranger's hand as an old friend.

"Emrys," a scratchy, withered voice prompted as the hand was drawn away from his dark locks.

Merlin looked up, his cheeks still wet and his eyes bloodshot. Kneeling before him against a knarred, crooked cedar staff was an old crone. Her bushy white hair hung about a face filled with lines of wisdom and sorrowful brown eyes that reflected Merlin's previous inner turmoil. Dressed in a ragged black dress, she painstakingly hauled herself into a hunched over position, her knees cracking uncomfortably as she stood. Despite her atrocious appearance, Merlin's magic reverently regarded her and so the warlock stayed on his knees and bowed his head.

"My Lady," he murmured.

A hand stricken with age cupped his chin and raised it upward. Merlin's eyes lifted and he saw the Crone smiling down upon him with a strange fondness in her eyes.

"Rise, my Emrys," she croaked.

Merlin did so, eyeing her curiously. She seemed so familiar to him but he'd never met her before. "Do I know you?"

The hag chuckled, her voice grating from her throat like it was filled with dust. "But of course. Magic will always recognize the Triple Goddess."

Merlin's eyes widened and he stumbled backward in surprise, losing his footing and falling over in a delightful mess. His cheeks burned as he stared up at a being he'd known was real but had never actually met. The old Crone laughed again, leaning against her staff while her eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Your form leaves you severely uncoordinated but I must say I find that an endearing trait."

"Huh?"

The Crone's smile disappeared as she shook her head, her long white hair swaying about her face. "Never you mind, young one. I come to you now to be a guiding light when all is dark."

Merlin's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"No, I suppose you do not," the Crone sighed, "but you will. Do you know where you are?"

Merlin shook his head, perplexed.

The Crone lifted her hand, gesturing to the vast room around her. "This is the Crystal Cave, the birthplace of Magic. Here those with the Gift can see past, present, and future – for here Magic is in its purest form. You, Emrys, were born from this Magic. You are an extension of the cave itself and were formed to fulfill a great destiny."

"The Once and Future King," Merlin murmured and the Triple Goddess nodded. "Please, do you know who he is? Can you tell me?"

The Crone suddenly smirked, her brown eyes taking on a mischievous glint. "He is the other side of the coin. Remember, Emrys, your magic is a gift and was given to you for a reason. It was meant for him and him alone. Trust in that knowledge and the darkness will not consume you."

The Crone then faded from sight leaving Merlin alone with the crystals.

"Wait!" he cried, leaping to his feet. "Please, I need to know more! What darkness do you speak of? Who is the Once and Future King? How will I know it is him?"

"The bond, Emrys," the Crone's voice whispered, echoing not only around the cave but also in his head, "the bond."

"But I haven't felt it yet!" Merlin cried in despair, hastily looking around for some sign of the goddess but it was in vain. She was gone. His eyes falling to his booted feet, Merlin softly mourned, _"I haven't felt it yet…"_

The warlock's eyes pooled with tears as Arthur immediately filled his thoughts. There had been so many opportunities for the bond to manifest between the two of them but it hadn't it formed. So what if he wasn't royal by birth? Arthur clearly was a man worthy of the title of a king! Couldn't the Old Religion see that there was no one else Merlin wanted to serve? How could he be happy knowing that he would have to give his magic to another man when he'd been giving it to Arthur since the moment they'd met?

"I can't do it," he whispered aloud to the cave. "I can't give it to someone else. It's not possible."

He curled up again, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Why did a prophecy have to determine what he chose to do with his life anyway? The Triple Goddess may have said he was born to serve the Once and Future King but didn't he have a say in who his King would be?

No.

No, he didn't.

But oh how he _wished_ he could turn against Destiny and Fate and chart his own course! His life would have been so different than how it was now! Lamenting the loss of friendship, the longing to satisfy desires, and the misfortune of being a slave to Destiny, Merlin pushed himself up from the cave's floor with a mind to leave. As he stood, the images began again, ending once more with the flash of silver and red as the silhouette of his unknown King reached out towards him.

Merlin stiffened in dread. The goddess had said these crystals showed the past, present, and future. He surmised that all the visions he'd seen must have been the future but this brought no comfort. There was nothing but death, sorrow, and an unknown sovereign for him to look forward to. Afraid, Merlin spun on his heel and ran out of the cave. The gentle night air slapped against his face, a welcome change to the chill within the cavernous space. Taking several heavy breaths, Merlin transformed back into his dragon self (making sure his size was that comparable to a horse and not its true size) and made his way towards Gwen and Elyan's camp, desirous to put as much distance between him and the Crystal Cave as possible.

So caught up was he in the images from before that when the danger struck he was unprepared.

He was about to turn a sharp corner of the gorge when a wave of wicked magic slammed into his side, knocking him off his feet. Disoriented, the dragon grunted in pain, his legs flailing about as he tried to right himself. But before he could do so, something latched onto his back right leg.

The pain from the cave was nothing compared to the wave of agony that burned through his veins as a metal cuff locked into place around his back right leg. Screaming, Merlin felt all the strength leave his limbs, his body falling into the leaves and dirt of the Valley's gorge. His nostrils flared as he tried to breathe but he couldn't get enough air to fill his desperate lungs! His heart slammed against his chest and his mind clouded with a sluggish haze, causing his panic to escalate. He tried to summon his magic but a sharp spike of pain immediately stopped his attempt; it was like little shards of ice raking against his skin, crawling through every blood vessel at an agonizingly slow pace.

What had _happened_ to him?

"I should have known I would find you here," a menacing voice whispered in the darkness.

Merlin's breathing quickened as a shadowy figure drew near. His vision was too blurred to make out who it was. A hand lay against Merlin's long neck, just below his head.

"There, there, Emrys," the man consoled though his voice sounded anything but soothing. "Sleep now and on the morrow you will learn your fate. _**Onslaep nu."**_

"No," Merlin whimpered.

But it was no use; his magic caged within, he was unable to counter the enchantment.

Before darkness claimed him, Merlin's eyes faintly registered that his attacker was wearing a blue cape with a black tree stitched into the shoulder. Fear gripped his heart and then he knew no more.

[][][]

Far away, in a village of Essetir, a man with golden hair bolted upright from sleep, his heart pounding like a charging horse against his ribcage, a panicked cry falling from his lips.

" _MERLIN!"_

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 **Cliffhanger! I regret nothing. Review please? I'd love to read your thoughts! :)**

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Spell translations:

 _ **For min gumfréa:**_ For my king

 _ **Onslaep nu**_ : Sleep now


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm sorry it's taken so long to get back to our favorite Golden Trio but there's a lot of scenes that need to be written in order to set you all up for the grand finale. This story has turned into a huge jigsaw puzzle! I hope you enjoy this particular puzzle piece. Please take the time to leave a review. I confess there are some days that are harder than others to remain motivated to keep going. Hearing from you helps me know that you're enjoying what I'm creating.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

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Chapter 06

The rush of wind and spiral of color abruptly vanished, leaving Harry severely disoriented as his feet landed precariously upon an unfamiliar forest floor. His knees buckled and his palms slammed into the soft earth, dirt and broken leaves bunching up around the spaces between his fingers. Grateful that he hadn't been holding his wand – since it clearly would have snapped under such an impact – Harry lifted himself off the ground and tried to take in his surroundings.

"Where the heck are we?" Ron grumbled, brushing dirt and leaves off the back of his trousers.

"I believe it's called a forest, Ron," Hermione teased, assessing the area.

"Now's not the time to be smart, Hermione," her husband griped.

"What time do you think it is?" Harry asked, attempting to peer through the dense foliage above to get a reading on the heavens; he'd become quite good at telling time this way, feeling it was a relevant skill in his field of work.

"Probably after midnight," Hermione muttered, "Though it's hard to get a reading."

"I can't see a thing," Ron complained. Pulling out his wand, he muttered, _"Lumos."_

The result was catastrophic.

The light that erupted from the end of Ron's wand was equivalent to the sun at noonday, engulfing the entire area in a burst of sudden illumination that seared Harry's eyes and left him temporarily blind. There was an explosion and a severe crack followed by Ron groaning in pain. The immense radiance immediately disappeared and the forest instantly returned to the blackness of night. Blinking furiously, Harry tried to get his vision reacquainted with the rapid change.

"Ron, are you alright?" he asked, still unable to see.

"Ugh," Ron replied.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, slightly panicked.

"I'm okay," he groaned. "I just feel like I've been hit by the Hogwarts Express is all. What in Merlin's name just happened?"

"I have no idea," Hermione fearfully answered.

Harry's vision finally started to return, the dark outline of trees beginning to separate from the deeper shadows of the forest. It took a few more seconds for his pupils to dilate but it was such a relief to see again! Ron was sitting on the ground holding, from what Harry could tell, the remains of his wand. Lightly swearing, he wandered over to his forlorn friend.

"I finally get my own and it breaks," Ron mourned.

"It looks more like it _shattered_ ," Harry delicately corrected.

Ron glared at him anyway.

Her vision also restored, Hermione wandered over and stared at the remains with both pity and curiosity. Most of the wood was now scattered throughout the forest floor but the handle remained, the unicorn hair core now hanging limply from its center.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," she muttered, kissing her husband's cheek.

"Should've known it wouldn't last," Ron sighed bitterly, "seeing as I broke my other one too. I have the worst luck."

"But why did it happen?" Harry wondered with a furrowed brow.

Hermione paused, thinking. Then, instead of offering an explanation, she nervously pointed her palm towards the sky and muttered, _"Lumos."_

Harry and Ron watched in astonishment as a ball of light sprang into existence, floating above Hermione's hand, its glow emitting a light three times brighter than what the usual spell would produce from her wand's tip. Her illuminated face filled with awe, she whispered the counter spell, "Nox", and the ball of light faded into darkness.

"It was brighter than I thought but at least it wasn't as bright as Ron's wand," she muttered, awe still laced within her tone. She then rounded on Harry and Ron. "Do you two know what this means?"

Harry caught Ron's eye despite the darkness. "No," they said at the same time.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "It means that we can perform magic like Merlin! We don't need wands! Try it!" she invited excitedly.

Filled with doubt but unwilling to go against Hermione's chipper attitude, Harry held out his hand just as she had _. "Lumos,"_ he muttered.

There was a strange stirring within his body near his midsection and his senses became hyperaware of the magic flowing throughout his core. It was like a steady current, a constant stream of power that he'd always known was there but never able to feel in such a remarkable capacity. The magic coursed rapidly through his veins before expelling from his fingertips, a brilliant ball of light forming in his palm five times brighter than what he could produce from his wand. Mesmerized, Harry watched the contents of the orb swirl about, the energy trapped within comparable to thousands of strands of electricity dancing in a chaotic storm.

"Wow," he breathed.

"Well it's clear who has the most power out of the three of us," Hermione laughed.

Harry glanced up to see she had conjured another light of her own and, while her and Ron's orbs were quite brilliant, the glow from his was three times that of theirs. His cheeks reddened slightly as a sheepish smile climbed his face.

Ron rolled his eyes but his tone was teasing as he said, "Try not to look _too_ pleased, Harry."

"Sorry," the Auror muttered before turning his attentions back to the forest.

With the orbs he could now see a decent amount of the area. The trees were thick, the soil soft, and thick bushes were scattered about, their leaves filled with the fine spun silk of a spider's web. In the distance he picked up the steady trickle of a stream, the water flowing gently over rocks and other obstacles.

"Well, I haven't the foggiest clue as to where we are but I don't think it's wise to travel right now."

"Why? We don't have to worry about tripping in the dark," Ron pointed out.

"That may be true, Ron, but we're in a time we know very little about," said Hermione. "For all we know, we could be close to a town that hates witches and wizards. The Purge could be in effect. We could run into bandits. Anything is possible. I think the best thing to do is wait here until morning and figure out what to do next."

"Alright," Ron griped, "I see your point. Say, you didn't happen to bring the tent with you, did you?"

Hermione scowled. "I didn't think we'd be leaving so suddenly, Ron."

Harry stared. "You mean to tell me that -for once- you aren't the least bit prepared?"

The young witch turned her glare on him and Harry quickly schooled his grin.

"That's exactly what I mean, Harry! Ugh! I wish that Merlin had given us more of a warning before blindly sending us here!"

Harry shared a quick grin with Ron while Hermione's back was turned. While it was a little disconcerting to be stuck in an unfamiliar time, it was sort of fun to see Hermione so ill-equipped. Normally she would have everything needed for a situation like this.

"Well, there's little we can do about what we don't have," Harry voiced, "But we do have magic and it shouldn't be too hard to transfigure a couple of large logs into sleeping bags."

Hermione sighed before agreeing with his logic. Though she still looked peeved, she pulled out her wand when Ron snatched it from her fingers.

"Are you mental?!" he cried. "Who knows _what_ would happen if you used a transfiguration spell with this!"

"Oh – right – sorry," Hermione apologized, her cheeks pink. "Force of habit…"

Her husband handed the wand back to her and the witch made sure to place it in the deepest pocket of her robes. Harry followed her example, removing his wand from its holster on his arm. The last thing he wanted was for his wand to shatter in a moment of thoughtlessness. Placing it within his robes, he then took a deep breath and looked around for a large piece of wood worthy of becoming a sleeping bag. Finding a particularly thick branch near the base of a tree, he hauled it closer to Ron and Hermione and held out his hand. Curious, he decided to use a nonverbal spell. Whispering the spell within his mind, his magic flowed as it had before, extending out of his palm and expelling invisibly into the air. The wood transformed into a perfectly plush sleeping bag and the wizard grinned in triumph.

"Well done, Harry!" Hermione praised.

"Your eyes didn't light up like Merlin's though," Ron observed.

Harry frowned. "I wonder why?"

"Maybe because the spells we're using are different from his?" Hermione suggested.

"Whatever the case, it proves useful," Harry realized. "Merlin said that all sorcerers were identifiable because their eyes would change to gold when using magic. But since we don't have that issue, if this is the time of the Purge, we can keep our spells nonverbal and discreet and we won't get caught!"

"Let's hope they're discreet," Hermione muttered, worried. "The power behind my spells feels much stronger than what I could produce with my wand. A simple stunning spell from the future might turn out to be powerful enough to kill someone here!"

"I highly doubt that, Hermione," Ron scoffed.

"Really?" she challenged before standing up and turning her free palm towards a tree; her right hand was still occupied with the lumos orb. _"Stupefy!"_

The bark exploded, leaving a black mark indented in the now exposed wood. Harry and Ron's jaws dropped, their eyes wide with shock. A bundle of nerves exploded within Harry's stomach. If the stunning spell was able to do _that_ , what could something like the Reductor Curse do? He really didn't want to find out. But if they didn't experiment with their magic they'd never know and could end up being a danger to both themselves and those around them.

"I think we should practice our spellwork tomorrow," he suggested, voicing his fears.

"I think that's a really good idea," Hermione admitted, having successfully transfigured her own piece of wood into a sleeping bag.

Ron agreed. "At least if we can't control something, we'll only end up hurting ourselves."

"And the forest," Harry added.

"Let's hope the former doesn't happen," said Hermione, settling into her sleeping bag. "I may have learned several things about medicine and healing over the years but I have no clue how my healing magic would work here if any of us got hurt. We can't afford to be reckless."

"We'll be sure to be careful, dear," Ron promised, giving his wife a goodnight kiss before crawling into his own sleeping bag for the night.

Harry, slightly jealous that his own wife wasn't there to kiss goodnight, nestled into the thick confines of his sleeping bag before zipping it closed. Letting out a heavy sigh, he bid both Ron and Hermione goodnight before removing his glasses and closing his eyes. The soft sound of crickets slowly began to chirp and the occasional scurrying of an unknown creature moved the leaves and the grass. Harry wasn't bothered by the noise, however; in an odd way, he was at peace with it. Though he couldn't explain how, it soothed his magic and his soul. Merlin had often said that magic was a part of the earth. Maybe now that they were in an environment free from pollution Harry was finally able to feel what Merlin felt all the time? The power coursing in the earth beneath and the atmosphere above left him somewhat breathless. It was _amazing!_

Content beyond belief with this incredible feeling, Harry soon slipped into the confines of sleep with a smile on his face, pleasurable dreams lighting his mind within.

[][][]

For the hundredth time Harry cursed his stupidity. Hadn't the last six years taught him _anything?_

He yanked futilely against his chains, more in frustration than anything else. The ruins engraved into the metal cuffs suppressed his magic making him feel sick. Was this how Merlin felt when Rodolphus Lestrange had kidnapped him five years ago? No wonder he looked awful when they'd found him! Even though Harry's magic wasn't connected to his life force like Merlin's was, it was still painful having it suppressed. The power moved sluggishly through his veins and every time Harry tried to concentrate on it his brain would go all fuzzy and his eyes would temporarily lose focus. Developing a headache from so many failed attempts to use the magic within, Harry cursed again under his breath.

This was all his fault. If he had been thinking, he would have suggested having at least one of them stay awake in case they were ambushed. But instead he'd fallen asleep without considering the fact that they were now in a world where people didn't just rob you unawares but strung you up in chains and carted you off to who knows where as some kind of prisoner. Harry had forgotten they were in a place where slave trading was an unfortunate reality and now he, Ron, and Hermione were on their way to some market with a bunch of other captured sorcerers to be sold in the city of Deorham to the highest bidder.

Apparently they had had an unseen audience in the woods when they were experimenting with their magic. Harry suspected that Ron's wand exploding with light had done the damage in alerting the slave traders to their whereabouts. He wasn't angry with Ron, however; none of them had been expecting that particular reaction to come from his wand. No, if anyone was to blame it was Harry and his ignorance for not thinking things through.

Groaning within, he looked over at Ron and Hermione. Thankfully the three of them had been chained up in a line together but, being at the back of the group, they couldn't sneak in any kind of conversation because some of the slave traders were walking behind them; their leader had given explicit orders to kill anyone who spoke without permission or failed to keep the pace. Both Ron and Hermione looked as exhausted as Harry felt.

They'd been traveling now for five hours without a break and that included not drinking or eating anything. Harry's stomach had ceased its growling several hours ago but the gnawing hunger had remained, tormenting him. Sweat fell down his face, causing his glasses to slip uncomfortably down his nose. The annoying thing was that he couldn't even push them up because the smaller chain around his wrists -linked to a thicker chain that snaked through the entire company of captured victims- wasn't long enough to give him that much movement. At least he still had his trainers; most of the other sorcerers were barefoot, several of them having cracked and bleeding feet.

Another hour of mindless walking passed and just when Harry felt his knees were about to buckle in protest from the unwavering pace of the slave traders, the party came to a rather abrupt stop. The Auror looked up and squinted from the onslaught of sunlight hitting his sunburned face. The sudden halt was explained as one of the slave traders close to him cried out in gurgled surprise as a crossbow bolt dug into the side of his neck. Panic ensued as the slavers ran about while more bolts attacked them from the trees. The slaves fell to the ground in a means to protect themselves from the unexpected attack, the chain forcing Harry to his knees as it jerked downward. Ron grunted and Hermione cried out in pain as they too fell to the forest floor.

Despite wanting to see what was going on, Harry hid his head as best he could with his arms. That way, if a stray bolt did end up hitting him, it at least wouldn't go through his skull – or so he hoped, anyway. The sounds of metal clashing against metal filled the air; a familiar sound for Harry since he'd watched Arthur and the knights enough to know sword fighting was now taking place. Men screamed in agony as death claimed them. Shouts of triumph were occasionally heard but it wasn't until Harry heard a particular insult that he looked up with wide eyes.

"You're a very angry man, I can see that. Must be hard – being so ugly!"

Standing just a few feet away, his trademark grin and his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief, was Sir Gwaine. He spectacularly disarmed his opponent before running him through with his blade. Flipping his hair away from his face, the young rogue spun around to meet another attacker. Three paces away, Harry's eyes widened further as he spotted both Sir Percival and Sir Lancelot engaged with their own foes. Percival took down three men at once by hitting them with the body of one of their fallen comrades, quickly dealing mortal blows after they were disoriented on the ground. Lancelot's fighting style was fluid and beautiful, his blade gliding through the air and bestowing death to all its victims. In less than five minutes all the slave traders were dead, the three knights standing victorious amidst their fallen prey.

But were they really knights though? None of them were dressed in the trademark chainmail Harry had always been familiar with. Each man wore a simple pair of brown trousers and tunic – Gwaine's green, Lancelot's blue, and Percival's gray. Gwaine also wore a thin leather jacket while Percival sported a leather vest. Lancelot's only other accessory was the worn leather belt around his waist. Each man had a sword but Percival also carried a crossbow. Harry wouldn't be too surprised to find them in possession of a dagger or two as well. In all honesty they looked more like dangerous peasants than knights.

"That was fun," Gwaine commented while Lancelot set to work freeing the slaves with a set of keys he'd retrieved from the leader of the company.

The second their cuffs were removed, the eyes of each sorcerer burned gold, the air exploding as magic burst from their forms. Harry stiffened in dread, fearful that one of them would turn out to be evil and result in an explosion that would knock them out (like Rodolphus had done when released from the suppressing cuffs unknowingly by the Ministry). But he needn't have worried; every sorcerer captured turned out to be good. The grass grew around them, flowers sprouted into existence, and a gentle wind cooled the sweat from everyone's brow. While some expressed their thanks to these unknown men before hastily making for the trees, most disappeared the moment their magic was free, their forms bursting into a gust of colorful wind.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed put, however, reveling in the feeling of their magic being restored and coursing freely through their veins. Harry sighed in contentment, closing his eyes happily as the sluggish crawl of power turned into the steady stream beneath his skin. So caught up was he that he was caught off guard when Gwaine chuckled beside him.

"I've seen that look before," he smiled when Harry stared at him. "We've released a few sorcerers in our travels," he explained. "One once told me what it felt like to have his magic restored. The only thing I can compare it to is when I feel the effects of ale running through my body."

"You compare everything to ale, Gwaine," Lancelot teased.

The rogue laughed, pushing his hair away from his face. "I suppose you're right."

"Thank you for saving us," said Hermione while gently rubbing her raw wrists.

"You're welcome," said Percival with a gentle smile.

"It was our job after all," Gwaine said with a grin.

"Your job?" Harry prompted, confused.

"Allow me to explain. I'm Lancelot. Percival is the gentle giant over there and this philanderer is Gwaine. We're mercenaries sent by the Lady Morgana, High Priestess of the Old Religion."

"Beautiful woman," Gwaine sighed. "I'm telling you, my dallying days with wenches are over."

Percival scoffed. "Sure they are, Gwaine."

" _Anyway,"_ Lancelot stressed, glaring at his comrades, "we were sent by her to rescue you and accompany you to the Valley of the Fallen Kings."

Harry stared. "So you're being paid to help us?"

"Yep," Gwaine grinned, "although I'm going to see if I can get more than just gold from the lady when we finish the job."

"Enough with the flirtatious thoughts, Gwaine," Lancelot demanded, his face strained as he turned back to Harry. "Sorry about him; he's a bit of an idiot."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione chuckled as Gwaine pretended to look offended. The man hadn't changed a bit.

"Forgive my rudeness, but the Lady's description of your clothing was correct," Percival commented. "It is quite… unusual."

Harry looked down at his robes and realized for the first time that he hadn't thought at all about trying to blend in with the people of this time – another point to mark against himself in the Auror training department. Masking your appearance to fit any given situation was one of the first lessons an Auror learned. He'd been an Auror for five years now yet coming to the past had somehow made him forget all the basics he'd mastered years ago!

Frustrated, Harry muttered a quiet transformation spell and his robes instantly changed into something similar to what Lancelot was wearing except he'd chosen a green tunic, black trousers and boots, with a black leather belt. He retrieved a sword from a fallen slaver and slid it between his tunic and belt near his hip; the knights had taught him plenty how to use a sword over the years though he'd had yet to use such a weapon in real combat situations. Ron and Hermione had also changed their clothes, Ron now wearing a blue tunic and brown trousers while Hermione sported a soft pink dress embroidered with blue flowers down the front.

Gwaine let out an impressed whistle. "Well, that's one way to do it."

"Shall we then?" asked Lancelot, indicating for them to start heading north.

"Wait," Ron called, stopping the mercenaries. "Why are we going to that valley place?"

Percival shared a glance with the other two who merely shrugged. "The Lady Morgana told us to do so," he answered.

"Before throwing us through a magic portal to this location," Gwaine added, looking around. "I still can't believe that we were in Camelot's lands and then all of a sudden we're in Deorham. Magic is an incredible thing."

"It can also be highly dangerous," Percival reluctantly sighed. "We've had our fair share of evil sorcerers, remember?"

"Course I do," Gwaine replied before eyeing the trio. "None of you are evil, right?"

"Their magic didn't bring destruction when I released them," Lancelot pointed out.

"Oh, right." The rogue then rubbed his hands together and grinned. "Well, let's be off! It'll take at least three days to reach the Valley of the Fallen Kings and we're getting paid by the hour."

"No we're not," Percival countered, "but you're right, we should be going. King Alined's men patrol this road frequently. When they see this mess they'll likely come after the perpetrators."

"Besides furs, King Alined's kingdom specializes in slave trade," Lancelot explained. "Judging by the black and red symbol on their jackets, these men personally worked for him. We should go."

"Lead the way," Harry invited after sharing worried looks with Ron and Hermione.

As the six of them headed into the safety of the trees, Harry quietly asked Hermione is she could cast a spell that would hide their tracks. He could easily have cast one himself but Hermione had always been the superior castor when it came to charms and he wasn't taking any chances. The witch happily obliged, her spell easily masking their footprints from prying eyes. As they walked – a much slower pace than what the slave traders had forced them to bear – they exchanged pleasantries with their three rescuers.

When asked where they were from, Harry quickly fabricated a story about their background, saying that he and Ron were somewhat mercenaries themselves but only specialized in taking down dark wizards. It wasn't entirely a lie since that was the job description of an Auror; the only difference was that they didn't work for private parties but the government – not that Lancelot, Gwaine, and Percival had to know that. Harry decided it was also fine to let the three know that he, Ron, and Hermione were related through marriage. When Percival asked what land they hailed from, Hermione was quick to answer that they were from Nemeth.

"Great place," Gwaine commented. "Too bad we've got a bounty on our heads in that country; the ale was some of the best I've ever had."

"You're wanted men?" Harry curiously asked.

Lancelot was the one to sheepishly explain that they were wanted not only in Nemeth but Mercia, Gwynedd, and Cornwall. Though their intentions were pure, their field of work sometimes left disaster – the most recent case being that they were hired by Queen Annis to save a noble from an assassin but ended up killing the noble on accident. "It's not my fault the man had been hiding in the dark!" Gwaine had defended when Percival shared the story. "He attacked me first! Thinking it was the killer, I defended myself."

The three shared many other tales that left the trio quiet entertained. Though not wanted by other royals, many corrupt men desired their deaths due to their plans being spectacularly foiled and their reputations destroyed. Harry had to admit he was impressed. Even if they weren't knights in this corrupted timeline, they were still formidable to any who opposed them. He was grateful they were on their side – at least, he _hoped_ they were. They had been sent by Morgana after all and the woman in the past had been Merlin's greatest foe. But, due to the changes Mordred had made, was she evil still? Harry could only hope that wasn't the case.

After another hour's worth of walking, Lancelot suggested they find a spot to make camp and replenish their energy. While Hermione made the fire, Harry and Ron gathered extra firewood and the mercenaries went off to hunt local game. They returned a few minutes later with three dead rabbits. Ron's face scrunched up in disgust as he watched Percival expertly skin the small vermin before handing them to Gwaine who slid the raw meat onto larger sticks and roasted them over the fire.

"Are we really going to eat that?" he mumbled to Hermione.

The witch lightly smacked his arm. "Of course, Ronald! Don't be rude."

"But –"

He faltered under her glare. Harry tried to send him a reassuring smile but he too wasn't all that fond of eating a rabbit. In fact, he was sure he would have put up a little more of a fuss if he hadn't been so hungry. When the meat was finally cooked, Lancelot, Gwaine, and Percival passed around the sticks before happily piecing into the cooked flesh. Ron's face was green as he peeled a bit of meat off the dead rabbit's bones. Looking at Hermione's expectant scowl with an expression of silent torture, he closed his eyes and forced the rabbit meat into his mouth. When it was Harry's turn, he too was disturbed as he removed several chunks from the stick. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage and took a bite. He'd been afraid it would taste awful so he was rather surprised when the texture and taste reminded him of chicken.

"It's good," he commented.

"Of course it's good," Gwaine laughed.

"Wait, you're not leaf-eaters are you?" Lancelot asked concerned.

Harry's eyebrows drew together. "Leaf-eaters?"

"People who don't eat meat," Percival clarified, puzzled as to why the term was so unfamiliar. "We've run into several sorcerers who feel eating animals disturbs the balance of magic."

"Well then their nutters, aren't they?" Ron said, heartily eating his portion of the rabbit now that it agreed with his taste buds. "I could never live without meat!"

Percival chuckled. "I guess we don't have to apologize for offending you."

"Are you kidding? This is great!"

Hermione elbowed Ron in the side with an exasperated sigh. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Ron."

"Yes dear," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes towards Harry.

"There's a smart man," Gwaine muttered causing Harry to laugh.

Hermione decided a change of subject was in order. "So you said earlier that the Lady Morgana sent you here from the Isle of the Blessed. What brought you to Camelot in the first place?"

"We had no intentions of going there, truth be told," Gwaine answered. "King Bane is a ruthless tyrant who kidnaps sorcerers and forces them to work for him by threatening to kill their families. Most of the people in his land do not possess magic but they are too afraid to leave since he could easily kill them. Anyway, we only came to Camelot because a woman named Finna helped smuggle us out of Gwynedd before Queen Annis could chop our heads off for killing her nobleman. When we asked her how we could return her kindness, she asked us to accompany her to the Isle of the Blessed and, well, you know the rest."

Harry grew very quiet as he contemplated this information. Morgana had once been a Seer; an incredibly powerful one according to Merlin. Did she know who they really were? And was she trying to help them? Or did she have another motive? What if all of this was a hoax and these three had been bewitched to lead them to their deaths? Harry looked up and began to study each man, looking for signs of enchantments. Finding none, he sighed. Maybe he was just being paranoid? But was that really his fault?

This King Bane set him on edge, reminding him of another Voldemort. Forcing people to join your cause by threatening their families? Definitely dark wizard material; and he was the one who had killed Arthur in this timeline. They had to make sure that didn't happen because everything about the current future made Harry incredibly uncomfortable. He hadn't felt like he belonged there – similar to how he felt being here. He didn't necessarily feel like he was being rejected by the earth but he didn't really feel welcomed by it either. Shivering slightly, he scooted closer to the fire and tried to forget about the strange feelings stirring around him by concentrating on the current conversation between Hermione and Lancelot.

"Do you believe she's a good person?" Hermione was asking.

"Some of the High Priestesses are definitely suspicious but I think the Lady Morgana is trustworthy," Lancelot answered.

"As do I," Gwaine voiced.

"You're biased because she's your wife," Ron blurted out without thinking.

Harry nearly smacked his forehead while Hermione looked panicked.

" _Ron!"_ she hissed.

But they needn't have worried; Gwaine took it as nothing but a jest, laughing heartily at the very thought of settling down with any woman let alone Morgana. Percival had laughed right along with him but Lancelot was a split-second late on his chuckle and Harry feared they'd just planted a seed of mistrust in the chivalrous man. Hoping it was just his paranoia, he tried to return the conversation to what it was before.

"Do you know the real reason Morgana asked you to take us to the Valley of the Fallen Kings?"

Gwaine poked the fire with his stick and shook his head. "Not really. She only said it was vital for us to bring you there."

"She did say it had something to do with Destiny," Lancelot remembered.

"Even if we might not understand her motive, we have no desire to argue with a witch," said Percival. "So here we are."

"I wonder what we'll find there," Hermione mused.

"Bandits most likely," muttered Gwaine. "Those woods are crawling with them."

"Along with Bane's soldiers," said Lancelot. "It's an incredibly dangerous place. If any other person had asked us to do this I would have refused the job. There's a reason people stay away from Camelot. It's nothing but a land ruled by fear and filled with death."

"Maybe one day that will change," Ron hesitantly opined.

Gwaine snorted. "I doubt it'll be in our lifetime, mate. The only ones powerful enough to stop Bane live on the Isle of the Blessed and they refuse to get involved for some reason. No man can hope to defeat him without magic and since no sorcerer dares oppose him, we'll just have to wait until he naturally dies in order for the tyranny to end."

Harry shared a loaded glance with Ron and Hermione. He could think of one person who could oppose Bane but he didn't dare voice the thought aloud. He didn't even know where Merlin was let alone where to start looking for him. Besides, Morgana had apparently seen something that they were supposed to do at the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Though Harry didn't like walking in blind, he didn't feel they had much other choice. If they decided to go it alone, the chances of getting captured again were high. Besides, Lancelot, Gwaine, and Percival knew the layout of the land and they were trustworthy men. Harry quickly came to the conclusion that their best option was to go to the Valley and pray their paths would cross with Merlin's. He just hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

[][][]

Freya knew something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones. There were many married couples in the world but few possessed the bond that she and Merlin seemed to have. Several women had commented how the two seemed to always know where the other was, or how either was feeling. Even though they had only been married for a little over a month now, Freya felt she had been married to Merlin for years. She could always feel his magic, even if a great distance divided them, like a comfortable flame burning softly within her breast.

But that flame had gone out last night, waking her in a cold sweat.

The druidess had spent most of the day with Merlin's mother, Hunith, having confessed her fears. While Hunith looked worried she wasn't prepared to fully panic. She assured her that though Merlin often ran into trouble in the past it was nothing he couldn't handle. Balinor, Merlin's father, said almost the same thing. Both of them urged Freya to wait a day or two and see if the feeling went away. But it only grew worse and at this point Freya was desperate. She knew of only one person who might be feeling the same as she – if Merlin's stories were true, that is.

It hadn't been hard to sneak away from Farworyn even though there were dragons flying everywhere. A few babies had hatched last week, some of the younger dragonlords having finally reached the age of manhood in order to call them into the world. Seven large dragons remained as a result from the Great Purge and though they frequently circled the village, they mostly kept to the forest. Freya prayed as she trundled through the woods than neither adult or baby dragons would see her and report her whereabouts to Balinor. That man had become incredibly protective of her since her marriage to his son. Though she cherished how much her in-laws loved her, Freya was a wandering spirit. Like Merlin, she loved spending time in the forest with the trees and animals.

The sun was beginning its descent towards the western horizon when the druidess finally reached Alnwick. It was a very busy town, one of the biggest in the area due to the large river that ran through it. The town was split in half, the river dividing it down the middle. Compared to Farworyn, this place was huge! Freya began to fear that she would never find her query but she squished her doubts with determination. Her husband was in trouble and there was only one man she knew who possessed the skills necessary to find him.

Joining the main road, Freya tried to ignore the lustful looks several men were giving her. Perhaps she should have dressed differently? She hadn't thought that wearing a pair of breeches and a light blue tunic under a dark blue cloak would cause much of a stir. She'd chosen such clothing not only because it was sufficient for travel but with the hope that men like the scum currently looking at her would leave her alone. Freya quickened her pace, wandering further into the town where the houses were built close together, some even two stories high. Most of the stories Merlin had told her concerning his adventures had to deal with a local tavern called The Black Swan which she believe was located near the river. But which side? Seeing a group of men lounging near a fishing port, she gathered her courage and made sure her magic was at the tip of her fingers.

"Excuse me," she smiled, immediately gaining their attention. "Could you gentlemen tell me where I could find The Black Swan?"

"Sure daisy-face," one said with a horrific beard and a gruesome grin, "for a price."

Freya's eyes narrowed as his companions laughed and stood up. There were four of them but she was sure her magic was more than efficient to knock them out. She may not be as powerful as her husband but she could hold her own. Holding out a hand, she kept her gaze cold and steady.

"I wouldn't come any closer if I were you," she warned.

The men only laughed harder, the lust in their eyes drawing them ever closer. Freya retreated, trying to keep enough distance between her and the ruffians, but then her back hit a wall. Cursing under her breath, the druidess took a deep breath and summoned her magic, casting aside the man closest to her. He flew back in a graceful arch before his body connected with a pile of crates and barrels. The shock of his three companions turned to anger.

"Get her!"

Freya took off running, her boots slamming against the dirt road as she dodged passersby, knocking a few of them to the ground. She made sure to shout an apology over her shoulder, regretting her actions immediately. Running through the streets of Alnwick being chased by lustful men had not been the original plan. She didn't have time for this! Flustered as well as frustrated, she turned a sharp corner but promptly fell back into the street after knocking into something remarkably solid. Her cloak tore a little as it raked against a few rocks in the road, her elbows taking most of the impact and throbbing something fierce. Wincing, she looked up to see what it was she'd run into only to find a rather terrifying man staring down at her. He was barrel-chested in build and had fiery red hair but as she looked further she could see a spark of compassion in his countenance.

"Are you alright?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

"Yes," she hastily replied, glancing over her shoulder. The three men were still in pursuit. Grasping the man's forearms, she pleaded, "Will you help me? I seem to have run into some trouble."

"What sort of trouble?"

It was then that Freya saw the man's companions. They were both rather tall, one with longer light brown curly hair, the other with short golden strands that settled across his forehead. Each wore a simple pair of trousers, a tunic, and leather vest. They also were well armed with a sword and two daggers, the weapons resting against their hips. The blonde had been the one to speak, his concerned blue eyes reminding Freya briefly of her husband.

Wait.

Blonde hair?

Blue eyes?

Two companions?

"Arthur?" she questioned.

The blonde's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You know me?"

The redhead rolled his eyes. "Everyone knows you, Arthur."

The blonde smirked and tipped his head. "True."

"There you are!"

Freya gasped as a pair of hands roughly grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. The three men had finally caught up with her. Her captor tightened his hold on her arms, his putrid breath stained with the remains of ale. Freya cried out in pain.

"I'm going to run you through, you little witch," he snarled.

"Take your hands off her," Arthur commanded, his voice filled with warning.

The man looked up, ready to tell off whoever it was, but then froze. "A-Arthur," he stuttered. "I didn't see you there."

"Now that you have, let her go."

"But, she's a witch! I'd be doing you a favor, sir. I know how you feel about magic folk."

"I'm not overly fond of them but given your reputation, Halig, I'm sure this woman only used magic as a means of protection. Is that correct?" Arthur turned his piercing eyes on Freya who nodded. "I trust the lady's word. Unhand her, Halig, or you'll regret it."

The ruffian swallowed fearfully before thrusting Freya away from him. Arthur's curly haired companion caught her before she could stumble to the ground. He had a kind smile that was hidden behind a thin beard and his blue eyes were soft but protective.

"Are you alright?" he asked, helping her back to her feet.

"Yes, thank you," she breathed, straightening her cloak as Halig retreated into the crowd with his friends.

"You should be more careful," Arthur admonished. "There are more men like Halig in this town and not everyone is fond of sorcerers."

Apparently this was goodbye since the man then turned and began walking towards the entrance of what Freya realized was The Black Swan. The redhead eyed her with mistrust before following after Arthur, the last of the three smiling at her and nodding in farewell.

"Wait!" she called.

All three paused, turning to her. "Yes?" Arthur asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I need your help," she stated. "Please, Arthur, you're the only one I can rely on."

Arthur shared a loaded gaze with his companions before shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he said, a little apologetic, "I've learned from hard experience not to work with magic folk."

Freya was not about to give up. Even as they turned their backs on her again, she persisted. _"Please._ It's about Merlin."

Arthur stopped dead. The redhead twisted around, his green eyes blazing with anger. "We want nothing to do with him!" he snarled.

"Kay," the bearded man admonished.

"No, Leon!" Kay spat. "Years ago we made it very clear that Merlin was forbidden to come back here. If that warlock's gotten himself into trouble again, I'm not going to bail him out and neither are you!"

Arthur ignored the two and turned to face Freya with a controlled gaze. "Who are you?"

"My name is Freya," she introduced. "Merlin is my husband."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Leave a review? (runs away seeking shelter for leaving any upset fans with a cliffhanger) You guys will get the next update in a about a week! ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Just to clear something up, in case anyone was wondering, Freya was never cursed to turn into a Bastet in this story. Thank you so much to those of you who take time to review. Your words really mean a lot. You know who you are. For those of you who haven't reviewed yet, here's an open invitation! I'd love to hear from you too! :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 07

Arthur's jaw dropped open.

"You're Merlin's... _wife?"_ he spluttered.

"Yes," she said, vigorously shaking her head, her large brown eyes filled with silent desperation. "Will you help me?"

Arthur was torn. Last night he'd woken in a cold sweat, feeling that Merlin was in danger. He'd written it off as a bad dream but the feeling had gnawed at him all day and now this woman had showed up, confirming his fears. But could he bring himself to help Merlin after what he'd done? He automatically knew what Kay's answer would be to that question. Leon and Gaius, on the other hand, would probably side more with what Arthur's heart was screaming at him to do. Still, he was hesitant.

 _Coward_ , his inner voice snarled.

Arthur's usual reaction to defending himself was halted when Freya took a step closer, her eyes silently pleading him to overcome whatever had happened between him and Merlin in the past. The young man sighed. The least he could do was hear what she had to say. Then he'd come to a decision.

"I'm not promising anything –"

"Arthur!" Kay snarled.

The blonde silenced him with a look. Kay seemed ready to punch him and part of Arthur dared him to try. In the last five years he had overcome his foster brother in both physical strength and stamina – along with every other man who tried anything in this town. Everyone had learned very quickly that though he didn't hold a formal position of authority, Arthur was Alnwick's keeper of the peace and any who threatened that peace was better off facing Cenred's guards than him. But Arthur wasn't a fierce man who sought after power. He merely wanted people to live in harmony. He cared more about people than money even if many paid him for his services. He just wanted to do something good. Merlin had inspired that. With this thought, Arthur shook his head and turned back to Freya.

"I will hear you," he promised, indicating for her to follow him into the pub.

Kay stormed off, shoving the pub's door open and disappearing into the crowd. Arthur knew he'd react that way; if it had been five years previous, he probably would have as well. Leon put a comforting hand on his arm, his supportive glance giving Arthur strength enough to at least make it through this conversation.

Merlin's wife stayed close to him, almost like a shadow, weaving through the crowd until they reached the bar. The tender nodded to Arthur before going back to wiping his mug, allowing the blonde and his companions to come behind the counter and disappear into the back room. Crossing the storage area that contained several large casks of ale, Arthur stopped near the edge of a rug and pulled it back, revealing a trapdoor. Lifting it with the iron ring set in the wood, he descended the steps into a rather well-lit cellar that had been converted into a secret hide away. This place was his safe haven, a place to get away from all who begged for his attention; the bartender had offered it to him as thanks for stopping some idiots from burning down his pub two years ago.

Crossing the room, Arthur sat down at a small round table, indicating for Freya to join him. Leon, ever watchful, stood at the base of the stairs, his eyes and ears trained to find anything out of the ordinary while this conversation took place. Arthur sighed. Leon's loyalty was understandable but sometimes he wished things could go back to the way they were… before Merlin left…

Freya removed her cloak and Arthur was surprised that she wasn't wearing a dress but trousers and a light blue tunic. Despite the loose clothing, he could tell that she was very pretty. Her long dark hair and stunning brown eyes definitely left him silently complimenting his former friend on his choice of bride. He was still finding it hard to believe that this woman really was married to Merlin; it was such an audacious claim that he felt the need for further confirmation.

"Are you really Merlin's wife or did he just ask you to use that term in order to speak to me?" The question came out harsher than he'd intended.

Freya's lips pursed together, her thin eyebrows drawing downward. "Is it so hard to believe? Or are you upset that he managed to get married before you?"

Leon snorted lightly into his fist, schooling his features as Arthur glared angrily in his direction. Cheeks slightly pink, the blonde tried to regain some form of his dignity.

"Merlin is an idiot – he always has been. Forgive me, I just find it astonishing that he'd actually find someone daring enough to marry him."

Freya rolled her eyes. "I did not come here to argue with you over Merlin's ability to be a good husband or not – though he is the _perfect_ husband, just so we're clear. I came here because he's missing and from what he's told me you are the best chance I have at finding him."

Arthur perked up at that. "Merlin told you about me?"

The woman's eyes grew sad. "Yes. I've heard every adventure you've ever been through together and that is why I know you possess the skills to track him down."

Though curious to know why she was so sad, Arthur decided it was a question best saved for another time. Instead he asked, "How do you know he's missing?"

"The light within is gone," she answered, her lower lip trembling slightly.

Arthur frowned. "Um, you'll have to give me more than that."

Freya started to cry. "I'm sorry," she murmured, shaking her head. "It's just – it's a bond that Merlin and I have. We've had it since the day we met but now I can't feel it anymore and I'm so afraid. I _know_ something's happened to him!"

Arthur sat still, uncomfortably watching her weep while finding that in a similar way he could empathize with her. He'd been on edge all day, moodier than usual, and feeling like a part of him was missing; though he'd felt that last emotion since exiling Merlin from his life five years ago. This feeling, however, was ten times worse than the usual ache.

"I believe you," he muttered. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Two weeks ago," she answered, wiping her eyes. "He went to the Valley of the Fallen Kings."

Arthur's chair fell back with a clatter as he leapt to his feet. "He _WHAT?!"_ he cried, his fear manifesting as anger. "What on earth would possess him to go to a place in Bane's lands? The Valley of the Fallen Kings is crawling with bandits, rogue sorcerers, and mercenaries! Not to mention Bane's knights. _Does that idiot have a death wish?!"_

Slamming his hands on the table, Arthur breathed heavily, his mind caught up in all kinds of horrible scenarios Merlin could have fallen into. All of them involved magic-restraining cuffs and torture. Arthur may have been angry with him for what happened in the past but he never wished any ill-will to befall the warlock. Because, behind all the hurt and anger, Arthur still loved Merlin and wanted to protect him. And that realization brought him to his decision - but from his tirade he didn't see the fierce protectiveness flashing through Freya's face. It did draw his attention, however, when the woman stood and started _yelling_ at him.

"He left because he felt like he didn't have a purpose anymore!" she snarled. "What you did to him _broke_ _him_ , Arthur. Never in my life have I seen a soul in such pain! And while I have tried my best to mend what was broken I know I will never be able to remove all the cracks from his heart. He left for the Valley because he was told he could find his King there. I'm sure he told you he is Emrys? Well, this is his last attempt at trying to find the reason he exists. I suppose I should thank you. If you hadn't damaged him as much as you have, he might not have tried to fulfill his destiny at all!"

Arthur was completely taken aback by her outburst. At first he wanted to retaliate with a bit of shouting of his own. She had no clue what Merlin had done to him nor of the suffering he'd had to endure from the warlock's separation. She didn't know that he too was broken, that he had been for a long time, and desperately wanted to fix it. She also didn't know his deepest secret – the thing that had ultimately driven a wedge between him and Merlin in the first place. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell her either. Speaking of it would only bring back the pains of the past, pains he'd rather keep buried in the darkest recesses of his mind. Still, he owed her an apology. It hadn't been her fault and it wasn't her responsibility to fix what had happened between them.

"I'm sorry, Freya," he softly muttered, his eyes filled with remorse as he witnessed her hurt. "It wasn't fair for you to try to heal a wound like that on your own. I've made many mistakes. Perhaps I can atone for some by helping you now."

Freya's eyes widened. "What?"

"I will help you," Arthur stated. "We'll leave at first light. There is a bed behind that curtain," he pointed to the corner. "You can rest there. It's the safest place for you seeing as this town is full of idiots that try to violate women on a daily basis. I do what I can to prevent such atrocities but I can't be everywhere at once. But don't worry; I'll make sure no one disturbs you tonight."

Without waiting for her reply, he inclined his head and left the room, Leon following at his heels. Gently lowering the trapdoor and replacing the rug, Arthur let out a heavy sigh and wandered over to a cask of ale, jumping up on the round object and waiting for Leon to begin his interactions as he knew he would.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Arthur?"

The blonde nodded. "Yes, Leon, I'm sure."

"But, if you go, there is a chance you will have to accept who you really are."

"I'm willing to take that risk," Arthur stated. "I will not abandon Merlin, Leon, not when I know that his life is in danger. I told you this morning that I planned on going to Farworyn tomorrow to investigate my fears but it seems Fate has sent Freya to me instead. I have to go to the Valley of the Fallen Kings. I have to know what's become of him."

Leon sighed in defeat. "I know you do, sire, which is why I am coming with you."

Arthur scowled at the title but let it slide this once. Hopping off the barrel, he placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "And I wouldn't have it any other way." Realizing something, he suddenly grimaced.

"Arthur?" Leon prompted.

The blonde groaned. "We're going to have to tell Kay. He's not going to be happy about this."

"I imagine not," Leon chuckled. "But Gaius might be a little more understanding."

"Yes, but even he might consider me an utter fool for venturing into Bane's land without an army."

"You mean _your_ land," Leon corrected.

Arthur frowned. "Right," he reluctantly muttered.

"Arthur," Leon began, seeing his friend's distress.

Arthur held up a hand. "Not now, Leon. Come on; it would be better to break the news while Kay has some ale in his system." Wandering towards the bar, he looked over his shoulder at the trapdoor was hidden and shook his head. "I still can't believe Merlin found a woman."

Leon chuckled, patting Arthur knowingly on the arm. "Your time will come, sire."

"How many times have I told you _not_ to call me that?" Arthur grumbled, shoving the man away with an irritated scowl.

"Countless, Arthur, but it doesn't change the truth," Leon bravely replied. "You are the rightful King of Camelot."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur murmured, "I'm not a king, Leon."

"Not yet."

The blonde groaned. "Enough of this. There's Kay. Come on."

The two weaved their way through the tavern towards their eldest brother who held a large tankard of mead in his hands. At their approach, he looked up, his green eyes still smoldering with anger.

"You're going," he guessed.

Arthur sighed. "Kay, I have to."

"No you don't!"

This conversation was pointless. Arthur folded his arms and squared his shoulders. "I'm going and there is nothing that you can do to stop me. Stay here if you wish but I will not fall prey to a guilty conscience. I leave at first light."

And without waiting for a response, the secret royal turned and marched up the tavern steps in search of a spare room. Finding one, he angrily tossed his boots aside and roughly removed his shirt before throwing it across the room too. Arthur then placed his sword and daggers near his bed before crawling under the scratchy blanket and blowing the candle out near his bedside. Looking up at the ceiling, he let out a weary sigh.

"Wherever you are, Merlin, I hope I can find you in time," he murmured aloud. His anger from this whole situation suddenly spiked and he added, "Whatever predicament you're in, it's your own fault! You were an idiot for going to the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Don't you know that nothing good ever happens there?"

Letting out another sigh that sunk deep into his bones, Arthur quickly wiped his face and tried to master his emotions.

"Just don't die on me, idiot," he whispered, his tone now gentle and soft.

Turning on his side, he closed his eyes and allowed sleep to come, praying that wherever he was, Merlin wasn't being tortured in the manner Arthur feared.

[][][]

Merlin was rudely awakened as a bucket of ice water slammed into his face. A snarl of surprise escaped the dragon's throat and he lifted his head, searching for the culprit with blinking eyes. Two things struck Merlin immediately: first, he was in an unfamiliar cave. Second, he was restrained by a long metal chain fused with an outcropping of rock he was currently resting on. His magic pulsed sluggishly beneath his skin, the movement causing a constant aching pain in every joint of his draconic body. Groaning, Merlin turned to the one source of light in the cave: a torch held by the man that had attacked him in the Valley of the Fallen Kings.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice weak as it pushed its way out of his throat. "Where am I?"

The man smirked, his grey eyes glinting with sick amusement over the dragon's painful predicament. "I am Bane and this is a cavern under the foundations of Camelot."

Merlin's eyes widened. The king of Camelot, the evil sorcerer Bane, had kidnapped him? Why?

"What do you want with me?"

"To keep you out of the way," Bane answered, his voice coated in anger. "You've meddled in my plans long enough, Emrys, and I will not allow you to continue to do so."

"I don't understand. Wait – you know who I am?"

"Of course I do. All druids have an inborn ability to recognize your magic and I am no different. I must say, I'm glad you were a dragon when I found you – this makes things so much easier for me since dragons tend to scare people away. Few will be willing to help you escape if you tried to coerce them to your cause."

"But I have no quarrel with you," Merlin argued, confused and scared.

Bane glowered. "Your ignorance blinds you, Emrys, but no matter. You are now within my power and it is there that you will remain. Enjoy the rest of your immortality."

Bane then turned around and ascended a staircase that Merlin could barely see. Darkness closed in all around him and fear gripped the dragon as he became blind to his surroundings.

"Wait! Please!" he cried but the light from Bane's torch continued to dim until it was completely gone.

The warlock was alone.

Ragged breathing bounced off the cave's walls, combined with the steady drip of water somewhere above his head. Merlin tried to calm down. He shifted beneath the rock, the chain rattling below him, causing the cuff against his leg to dig into his skin. Accompanied with the movement was immense pain and Merlin whimpered as his magic churned angrily beneath his scales. His keen sense of smell picked up the scent of something metallic and, upon inspection, he realized it was his own blood. The cuff had rubbed his skin raw.

Resting his head near the side of his body, Merlin's wing acted as a cloak, shielding him from the world. Though the darkness was just as penetrating, the action was somehow comforting, like he felt safer cocooned beneath his dragon wing than in the exposed air. Large tears soon began to fall from his eyes. Draconic sobs soon followed with tremors that shook his aching body uncontrollably.

To say Merlin was confused was an understatement. He had never met Bane in his life and yet, when the man had looked at him, it was with a hatred that had clearly been built over a long period of time. Bane had said he'd meddled in his plans but, while one for mischief, Merlin had never dared play such a game with royalty; he liked his head on his shoulders, thank you very much. But he was immortal so beheading might not be something he would ever experience.

Merlin eventually decided it was pointless trying to figure out why Bane hated him so much; he had a feeling the man would never tell him why. What he focused on instead was what Bane's intentions were. He knew Merlin was Emrys and therefore immortal so he couldn't kill him. He also said he wanted him out of the way so maybe that was all there was to this? Perhaps he didn't want to have to deal with the magic of Emrys being a possible threat? Maybe he'd seen something in the future where Merlin would threaten his position as king? Merlin snorted. Like he would ever want to be royalty!

So was this his fate then? To be chained to a rock in a cavern as a dragon for all eternity?

Things were certainly pointing in that direction. But what about his destiny? What about his King? What about Freya? Merlin couldn't just abandon them! Without him, Albion would never be. The Once and Future King would fail, the lands would crumble, people would be left desolate and divided...

Merlin's eyes widened.

Could that be Bane's intention? To destroy Albion?

The warlock couldn't fathom it. Why would a sorcerer not want to partake in the blessings of peace that Albion promised to bring? Perhaps Bane believed that he had personally already achieved this? If so then the king was delusional. Merlin may be from Essetir but even he had heard the opinions of Camelot concerning its king and none of them were positive. Everyone hated him but none dared oppose him because his power was said to be the greatest in the land. Maybe he was aware of his people's opinion and just didn't care? He seemed to be a heartless man. He definitely was no longer a druid; a druid would never chain Emrys to a rock and leave him in cave to rot for the rest of eternity.

"What am I going to do?" Merlin mourned aloud.

He couldn't use magic; the cuff on his leg made sure of that. But surely he could move and fly? He stretched his wings to do just that but was met with pain searing through each joint. Groaning, Merlin pushed through the pain and stood on his feet. It was agonizingly difficult but he managed to stay upright. The sound from his flaring nostrils and heaving lungs echoed in his ears through the darkness. Now that they had adjusted, Merlin was surprised that his eyes could see a sliver of light somewhere above him that brought in just enough sunlight to give the cave a dark bluish glow. With his enhanced vision, it was just enough to enable him to observe his surroundings.

Directly in front of him was the staircase Bane had used that no doubt led to the surface somewhere in Camelot's city. Miles below the rocky stone he rested against was a river, the flow of water only audible to his draconic ears. Above him was an open space and what looked like large outcroppings within the cave walls. Desirous to leave this horrible perch that left him feeling awfully exposed, Merlin leapt from the rock and used his wings to propel himself upward. Every moment produced a spike of pain but Merlin was determined. He reached the first outcropping a moment later but found it was too small for him. Gridding his teeth, he pushed for the next outcropping a few feet higher, the chain on his leg rattling threateningly beneath him. Reaching his destination, Merlin was rewarded with a spot that was large enough for him to fit – though if he was his real dragon size he never would have been able to squeeze into the large space. The chain was long enough to allow him to rest only two feet from the edge of his new perch but at least he had some privacy. Also, the chain's length gave him hope that he could dive down and drink the water from the river below so at least he could satisfy his thirst. His hunger, however, was another matter.

Was Bane going to feed him or was he meant to starve? Merlin had never been without food for an extended period of time before. He'd seen men and women die from starvation though; there had been a few rather difficult winters in Farworyn over the years, leaving the people with limited resources to survive the harsh season. Merlin imagined himself as nothing but skin and bone and shivered. Perhaps his immortality would keep him from ever reaching that point? He hoped that was the case.

Though he was now resting, his body felt as if it were on fire and it was everything Merlin could do not to scream in agony as poisonous magic from the rune cuff sliced through the veins beneath his skin, suppressing his power. Perhaps the pain would go away in time? _Or maybe I just have to get used to it?_ Merlin thought bitterly. Not at all thrilled over that prospect, the dragon lowered his head and lounged out, hissing as his joints ached in protest. Settling down, he let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. At least up here he was away from further rude awakenings like the one Bane had bestowed upon him.

Merlin's thoughts eventually turned to Gwen and Elyan. How he prayed they were alright! Thankfully he hadn't been with them when Bane had attacked so there was a good chance the king was unaware of them. This brought Merlin some peace but it didn't stop him from shedding more tears. The Valley was a dangerous place. Who knew what kind of dangers Gwen and Elyan could run into now that he wasn't there to protect them! Merlin could only hope that his Once and Future King reached the Valley before anything bad happened to his friends.

"Please, please find them safe and sound," he quietly begged, his voice again echoing off the stone walls surrounding him.

Closing his eyes, Merlin eventually drifted to sleep, his dreams uncomfortably filled with shadows and sinister laughter.

[][][]

The image in the bowl swirled to darkness and the High Priestess leaned away from its surface with a heavy countenance. Her green eyes swirled with sympathy as she turned to face her most trusted handmaiden.

"Bane has decided to make his move. It is now time for us to make ours. Are you ready, Finna?"

"Of course, Morgana," the older woman assured with a sorrowful countenance. "Emrys does not fare well, does he?"

"No, he does not," Morgana sighed, fiddling with the ends of her long umber colored hair. "We can only take assurance that his pain will not last forever. Come; there is much to be done."

The High Priestess swept from the scrying chamber, her green dress and cloak billowing out behind her. Finna followed in her wake, the older woman changing into her younger appearance in order to keep up; time was of the essence after all, and the window of opportunity they had was short.

[][][]

Harry had been surprised to run into so few travelers on their way to the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Lancelot had been positive that the main road would be crawling with bandits so they were bushwhacking through the open forest, much to Ron's chagrin.

The past had brought up several inconveniences the trio had never considered before – one being personal hygiene. Hermione had been their saving grace at that point, having read a book on how people in this time period managed to survive. Ron wasn't at all amused in having to wipe his teeth down with a cloth and a mixture of herbs but it was better than not cleaning them at all in Harry's opinion. The other atrocity they faced was what to use while relieving themselves. When Hermione had presented several suggestions, Ron and Harry both silently agreed that they would simply transfigure whatever they came across into toilet paper.

"I'm not about to wipe myself with a leaf!" Ron had grumbled. "We may be trying to blend in here but there are some lines I just won't cross!"

They had been traveling with the three mercenaries for five days now and Gwaine had assured them this morning that they would reach the Valley of the Fallen Kings before nightfall. Harry was highly looking forward to seeing the birthplace of magic with his own eyes; Merlin had told them many stories of the Crystal Cave in the last five years and all three were eager to see the historic landmark. Like Ron and Hermione, Harry's magic was surging beneath his skin the closer they drew to the Valley; Hermione guessed the reason was because magic had been born there.

The air was suddenly disturbed by the sound of an arrow whistling through the trees and Harry only managed to dodge it because Percival grabbed his arm and roughly threw him out of harm's way. The projectile slammed into the trunk of a tree just as the woods filled with the screams of angry bandits.

"Told you we'd run into someone soon. You owe me five silver pieces," Gwaine shouted to Percival as he hefted his sword with his own battle cry.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were immediately engaged in combat; they'd learned three days ago that the stunning spell was more than enough to knock out a man. Reluctant to try any other spells since their power was so great, the trio set to work stunning every foe within reach of the spell. The poor sods went down like a light, their bodies flying through the air and slamming into the dirt. Percival, Gwaine, and Lancelot made easy work of their attackers and soon the forest was littered with bodies of the dead or unconscious men.

Gwaine grinned, sheathing his sword. "Maybe we should hire a sorcerer, Lancelot. These three have come in awful good use these past couple days."

Lancelot rolled his eyes. "We've managed to hold our own just fine in the past, Gwaine – no offense," he added to the trio.

"None taken," Hermione assured.

"We must be getting close," Percival observed. "That was the first major attack we've faced since crossing into Bane's lands. The Valley is known to be crawling with thugs such as these."

"Let's hope it is the last," muttered Lancelot. "Even so, stay sharp. The entrance to the Valley should be a league ahead of us."

The group was wise to stay on their toes because they encountered three more attacks, one being a foursome of rogue sorcerers. While the three mercenaries took on one, Harry, Ron, and Hermione faced off against one opponent each. Harry had been nervous at first since all magic users in this time shared the same magic as Merlin but he soon discovered, to both his shock and delight, that his magic was _stronger_ than that of the sorcerer he faced. The shield charm he erected to block the flame of fire from his attacker didn't fade but held firm and Harry used _stupefy_ to knock the man ten feet away. Hitting his head on a rock, the sorcerer did not get up again. Harry turned just in time to see Ron and Hermione finishing off their foes with very little effort on their part. A cry of pain echoed through the clearing and the trio whirled around to see the last sorcerer fall to a well-aimed blow from Gwaine.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," he huffed, flipping his hair out of his face.

Harry noted that all three men had several cuts on their faces and arms, signifying that the sorcerer had definitely put up a good fight.

"You're bleeding," Hermione exclaimed.

All three looked down at their injuries and shrugged.

"Nothing to get upset over," Percival smiled. "A few cuts and bruises never hurt anyone, Hermione."

"Each of you seem to have been successful," Lancelot pointed out, his eyes drawn to the fallen sorcerers scattered throughout the woods.

Ron grinned. "They actually weren't that hard to beat."

"Don't get cocky, Ron," Hermione admonished.

The redhead rolled his eyes. "Yes dear."

The mercenaries and Harry chuckled.

The sun was setting low when they finally came upon the stone statues guarding the entrance to the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes glued to the Valley's entrance as if they were beholding a demon on the trail. Noticing the lack of footsteps, Lancelot turned around.

"Are you three alright?" he asked.

Gwaine and Percival turned around too.

Harry's heart was pounding in his chest, his magic swirling anxiously beneath his skin. He'd had many opportunities to be surrounded by highly potent magical places – especially after becoming an Auror – but none of them could compare to _this_. Here the very air was saturated with magic, raw power stirring in the gentle breeze and rising from the earth beneath his feet.

"Can you feel that?" Ron asked, his voice trembling.

"Yeah," Harry muttered.

"I've never felt magic like this," Hermione whispered. "It's powerful but also wild."

"Unpredictable," Harry agreed, nodding his head.

"It just flows naturally," Hermione continued, her eyes wide, "like the ocean; sometimes its calm and other times it's a raging tempest."

"I don't feel a thing," Gwaine deadpanned.

"Maybe that's because you're not a sorcerer," Percival chuckled.

Lancelot looked around the woods before ushering the group forward. "Regardless, we must keep going. Even at the entrance I wouldn't be surprised to find an ambush."

Luckily Lancelot's suspicions remained unfounded and the six travelers passed the stone statues cautiously but unharmed. The usual symphonies of the earth seemed dimmer within the large stone walls reaching as tall as three story buildings on either side of them. Harry was sincerely disturbed by the ruins surrounded by moss and dirt; the unknown faces staring at him with soulless eyes almost seemed to be watching him. Raw magic leaked from every inch of the soil, hovering in the air. Harry's own magic was on edge, unsure whether to consider this magnificent power as a friend or foe. The floor crunched beneath their boots, the noise ten times louder in their ears, putting all ill at ease.

It was quickly decided that they would find a place to settle before the little daylight left to them was completely swallowed up by the Valley's high walls. Percival was the one to find a suitable camp site, a small gully covered in leaves and sticks. A fallen tree rested at an odd angle between the forested walls. Gwaine and Lancelot volunteered to hunt down a few rabbits, disappearing back into the main part of the Valley. Percival and Hermione worked on setting out the bedrolls while Harry and Ron gathered sticks for a fire.

Lancelot and Gwaine returned successful, having also collected a few herbs and raw mushrooms along the way. Hermione transfigured a piece of firewood into a pot and soon the smell of Lancelot's secret but surprisingly delicious rabbit stew teased their nostrils.

Using magic to transform another large piece of wood into six bowls, Harry helped Hermione pass hearty portions around the fire. The mercenaries and Ron eagerly downed the contents of their bowls, sedating their ravenous appetites which had plagued them for the last five hours; Lancelot had felt it the greater need to push them to the Valley before stopping to set up camp. Hermione rolled her eyes as her husband asked for seconds. Harry merely chuckled when Gwaine and Percival followed his example. As the night continued to wax strong, the six companions kept close; none wanted to admit it but the Valley was making each of them feel on edge.

There already was a certain eeriness about the night but being in the Valley made everything seem ten times worse. Harry found himself flinching at every little noise, his eyes trained on the shadows just outside the light of their roaring fire. Gwaine made sure to keep the flames high, piling plenty of wood on the blaze.

"Anyone else feel like we're being watched?" Ron asked, being the first to break an uncomfortable silence.

Gwaine nodded. "I might not be able to feel magic but I can feel my instincts and every inch of me is saying to stay on high alert."

"I feel the same," Percival muttered, his hands gripping his sword which was thrust into the dirt in front of him.

"Maybe the magic in the Valley is causing this?" suggested Lancelot.

Ron and Harry looked to Hermione who shrugged. "It's possible," she replied. "Normally I'd see if we're alone in here but, given current circumstances, I'm afraid to blindly try that particular spell."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Gwaine.

"Oh – er – nothing," Hermione said quickly. "I just don't like trying spells for the first time around so many people; you never know how they're going to turn out!"

The mercenaries shared rather suspicious looks but none of them questioned Hermione further. Harry was glad. He'd hate to have to explain why they were afraid to use all the spells in their arsenal because of the way New Magic responded to an Old Magic environment. That would lead to questions about New and Old magic which would bring up the future and he just wasn't ready to go there.

"So, now that we've reached the Valley, what are the three of you going to do?" he decided to ask in order to change the conversation.

Lancelot glanced at his two companions and both nodded. Turning to Harry, he smiled. "I speak for the three of us when I say that we've decided to stick around for a while longer."

"But why?" Ron asked, "Not that we hate your company or anything but shouldn't you be heading back to the Isle to get paid?"

Gwaine grinned. "The Isle isn't going anywhere any time soon, Ron."

"Besides, we'd rather not abandon you in a place such as this," said Percival.

Harry was silently grateful. They didn't exactly know why Morgana had wanted them here or how long they were meant to stay. Without sufficient supplies, they'd have to leave the safety of the Valley to get food and there was strength in numbers. Given the amount of bandits crawling throughout this part of the land, he felt much safer with three men who were experts at wielding a sword than without.

"We'd be glad to have you stay with us a while longer," he said with a smile, "though we have no idea how long that's supposed to be."

"Did Morgana say anything to you about what would happen once we got here?" asked Hermione.

Gwaine shook his head. "Nope. She just told us to get you here and wait."

"Maybe she's going to meet us?"suggested Ron.

"Perhaps," said Lancelot.

"Let's see what happens in the morning," Percival proposed. "For now we should try to get some rest."

"Fat chance of that in this place," Ron muttered.

"We'll take turns keeping watch," Lancelot decided. "I'll go first."

"Right," Gwaine stretched before walking over to his bedroll. "Wake me up when you're ready to sleep, eh?"

Soon everyone but Lancelot had ventured to their bedrolls. Harry bade goodnight to his friends before settling down to sleep on the soft uneven ground. What he wouldn't give to be back in his own bed! Removing a rock from digging into the small of his back, he took off his glasses and set them to the side.

One thing was for sure, the birthplace of magic wasn't anything like he'd been expecting it to be. It was unpredictable, untamable, and amazing at the same time. Funny, Harry thought to himself as he tried to get to sleep, it was very similar to Merlin…

[][][]

Ron's pessimism turned out to be correct; none of them slept well that night, each plagued by occasional incoherent whispers and sounds echoing ominously throughout the Valley. Harry wasn't the only one happy to see the sunrise the next day. Whatever the reason they were here, he prayed they wouldn't have to stay another night. He didn't know if he could survive for long in such an inconsistent atmosphere.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi everyone! I am so excited to give you this chapter. I really hope you like it. Leave a review with your thoughts! And thank you so much to those of you who have previously shared what they liked from other chapters. You guys rock!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 08

Gwen had fallen into a routine. Every morning she and Elyan would wake, have breakfast, and then search for Merlin. The dragon had been missing for a week now and she was worried _sick!_ Regretfully she'd first thought he had abandoned them but then she and Elyan found the evidence of a scuffle involving something rather large. A set of human footprints surrounded the whole area and Gwen was certain that Merlin had been carted off. But the only thing that could take down a dragon was magic which left brother and sister wary of a sorcerer hiding somewhere within the Valley. Even with this disturbing thought, neither was about to abandon their friend and so began the search.

Though the Valley was only a mile long, the smaller gullies scattered throughout proved to house openings to caves ranging in all sorts of sizes. Day after day the siblings searched through the countless crevices they felt were big enough to hide something of Merlin's size but the fruit of their labors resulted in nothing but the discovery of several angry swarms of bats and a few irritated snakes.

They were covering the last bit of ground of the northern half of the Valley today, Elyan taking the west and Gwen the east, and the latter honestly wasn't paying too close attention to where she was going. The more the days slipped away from them, the harder it would be to find her dragon friend and Gwen could only imagine what had happened to him. Was he hurt? Was his captor torturing him? Was he still in Camelot or had he been taken away to some distant land?

These questions had plagued her day after day, increasing her worry with every sunrise and sunset. It didn't help that Elyan voiced last night the first concern of how long they were willing to look for the dragon. Gwen had angrily declared that she'd search all of Camelot before giving up on him. Elyan then reminded her of the reason they were in Camelot in the first place.

"I want to find Merlin as much as you but we're here to wait for the Once and Future King," he had said. "Maybe when he comes, he'll help us find Merlin?"

That was another thing to add to her frustrations and worry: where was the King? They'd been in the Valley of the Fallen Kings for a week and Gwen had had more than enough of the place! What was taking him so long? Was she meant to become a hermit, surviving in the wilderness for decades before said King's arrival? Gwen certainly hoped not. She didn't think she was meant for such an abysmal life.

The sound of several twigs breaking pulled her from her silent vexations and she looked up. Startled, Gwen realized she had left the Valley without meaning to – and, as a result, was now surrounded by ten rancorous men.

"What have we here?" the nearest asked, clearly the leader from the other men's body language. "You lost, honey?"

Gwen's shoulders stiffened and she went for her hip – but she clasped thin air. She swore under her breath. She'd forgotten her sword.

"Stay away from me," she commanded.

"This one's got some fire in her, Dagr," a man said with a rather portly complexion and unkempt beard, his ugly smile an expression of glee.

"A good sign that she has lots of energy to go around," another cackled.

The men kept advancing and soon Gwen felt her back connect with a tree. Cursing, she tried not to show her fear and apprehension as the men's eyes shamelessly roamed up and down her body, their inner thoughts clearly spoken through their gaze and sadistic grins.

 _I need to get out of here_ , Gwen desperately thought to herself.

She searched around for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon but the forest wasn't offering any assistance. The only conclusion she could draw was allowing the men to get close enough so she could steal one of their swords. But with so many converging on her at once, the chances of her being able to get a sword and effectively use it were slim. She'd be snatched on all sides or worse gutted as the men tried to defend themselves against her attempt to escape.

 _I can either die fighting or allow them to do whatever they will with me_ , she concluded.

It wasn't too hard to decide what to do when those were her options. Picking the nearest man to her left, she leapt forward and grabbed his sword, yanking it forcefully from his belt. Shock alone was the only reason why none of the others reacted when she plunged the sword's tip into its owner's belly. Using her foot, Gwen shoved the wounded man backwards and freed her bloodstained weapon. Whirling it around, she dropped into a fighting stance, her eyes flashing.

The men seemed to come alive all at once, each drawing his sword and rushing towards her with murderous cries. Gwen knew that she wasn't going to survive this battle – there were still nine of them and only one of her – but she wasn't going to let that deter her from trying. She managed to cut down two more opponents before the leader, Dagr, caught her wrist and forced the sword from her hand. Gwen cried out as her wrist was twisted in his ruthless grip. Seeing her disarmed and in the grasp of their leader, the remaining men backed off, laughing raucously as she hopelessly struggled to break free.

"Let me go!" she commanded though she sounded weak even to her own ears.

Dagr shoved her to the ground, straddling her, his heavy bulk leaving her no room to move. He yanked her arms up over her head, grasping the wrists together in one large sweaty hand. His other started a horrifying trail from her cheek down towards her collarbone. Gwen's eyes widened in fear, her lungs filling with air as the man's wicked grin spread wide. She knew what was about to come next. She'd never been in such a compromising position but she knew the outcome; enough girls had come to her and Alice after being victims to what she was about to fall prey to.

Dagr latched onto her bodice and pulled, the fabric ripping apart and exposing her plain tunic underneath. He tossed the ruined garment aside and his men cheered, roaring their approval. Terrified, Gwen thrashed back and forth but her captor was too strong. Dagr's fingers wiggled with anticipation, his hand lowering towards her chest. Realizing that physical force was no longer reliable, Gwen used the only resource she had left: she screamed.

Dagr's wicked grin suddenly transformed, his eyes widening in shock as his mouth dropped open in surprise. His grip slackened on Gwen's wrists and his body fell forward, crushing her beneath him. Horrified, Gwen shoved his body aside and scrambled away through the dirt and fallen leaves. Hitting the trunk of the tree she'd previously backed into, Gwen brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms protectively around herself, preparing for the next man who would try to defile her.

Through her fear, she finally registered that Dagr was dead with two well aimed crossbow bolts wedged into his bleeding back. Then she noticed that no one was coming after her anymore; Dagr's men were too busy fighting what Gwen believed was death incarnate.

The sword swam through the air like the wind bending the willows, effortless and powerful, with unrelenting grace. Its wielder guided its course with the precision of an elite warrior, the blade cutting down three men in quick succession. Two more joined their friends in the dirt after a small display of incredible footwork as Gwen's savior weaved his way through the loose cluster of bodies. In less than two minutes the rescuer had taken care of every man save one. As the bandit and hero fought, Gwen noticed movement in the dirt. One of the men, it seemed, had survived. Stumbling to his feet, he grabbed his sword and hastened towards the warrior with murderous intent.

Overcome with desperation, Gwen leapt to her feet and searched for a sword. Finding one only three feet away, she grasped the hilt and ran towards the injured scoundrel. Her rescuer finished off what he thought was his last foe and spun around in surprise when the wounded man screamed, his sword pulled back to avenge his fallen comrades. Gwen's own blade plunged right through the man's back and straight through his heart. Pulling the sword free and panting from the effort it took to reach her rescuer in time, Gwen looked up and took in the hero's features.

Though surprised at the moment, she had to admit he was an incredibly handsome man. He was almost a head taller than her with broad shoulders hidden beneath a red tunic and brown leather jacket. Two sets of almond shaped eyes shaded in a miraculous blue spoke of a cheerful but somewhat burdened soul. He had a strong jaw line and even shaped lips that Gwen somehow knew could lift into a smile that would knock the breath from her body. Golden strands of hair fell gently over his forehead, swept partially to the side, the rest of the locks short and whispering sweet temptation to Gwen's suddenly twitching fingers. He was, without doubt, the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on.

"You saved my life," he said in surprise.

Gwen's heart leapt at the sound of his gentle yet deep voice. Still breathing heavily, she shrugged and tried to smile. "I was only returning the favor."

A smile started to form on his face and, as she suspected, the young maiden temporarily forgot how to breathe. It wasn't a full smile but it still caused her spirit to melt and her heart to soar. Gracious, she was hopelessly smitten.

"I'm Arthur," he introduced, holding out a hand.

"Guinevere," she replied, her hand slipping into his.

The brief contact was enough for her to deduce he was a hard worker. He had the calluses to show for years of practice with the sword and his slightly tanned skin proved that he had seen his fair share of the sun. Gwen's eyes slightly lost focus, so caught up was she in how physically attractive she found this man. It therefore took her a minute to realize that Arthur had dropped his hand from hers and was trying not to stare at her. His cheeks were slightly pink and he had turned slightly away, coughing lightly into his hand.

"Ahem – um, you, uh – that is…"

Gwen's eyebrows drew together. "Yes?"

"Um… your tunic…"

Gwen looked down, assessing herself for the first time. It would appear that Dagr hadn't only ruined the bodice but her tunic as well. It was ripped right down the middle, exposing the outer lining of her breasts for all to see. Horrified, she gasped and crisscrossed her arms over her chest, her cheeks burning.

 _Great! Just great, Guinevere! You're standing in front of the most gorgeous man you've ever met and you're not even properly dressed! He probably thinks I'm a shallow peasant broad!_

"I am _so_ sorry!" she apologized.

Arthur sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "There's no need to be," he lightly chuckled. "I don't believe it was intentional."

"No – no, it definitely wasn't!" she agreed before sobering. "If you hadn't come along…" She glanced over at Dagr's dead body and shivered. Turning away, she faced Arthur and tried to smile. "Thank you again."

"I'm just glad we were close enough to hear you," he smiled.

"We?" Gwen questioned, looking around.

Arthur pointed above them. "My camp is a little over the ridge. I'm traveling with two companions: my brother, Leon, and my friend's wife, Freya. Your cry was loud enough for us to hear so I left them to see if I could help; Leon was injured by bandits a day ago and Freya is tending to him or else they would have joined me. Though I am sorry it took me so long to climb down the ridge to get to you."

"I'm just grateful you came at all; there are many who wouldn't have bothered getting involved."

"I could never walk away from someone in need," Arthur passionately declared. "And it was an honor to help you, milady."

He bowed to her and Gwen giggled. Straightening, Arthur sent her a large grin and the sight once more turned her heart into a pile of gruel.

"Gwen!"

Gwen spun around on her heel, her arms still crossed over her chest. "Elyan!" she cried in relief.

Elyan drew his sword, appearing as if he was about to charge across the clearing and run Arthur through. From the scene he'd stumbled upon – several dead bodies, Arthur standing very close to his sister, said sister protecting her chest in a ripped tunic – it was no wonder he looked ready to murder the stranger. Gwen tried to explain.

"Elyan, this is Arthur. He's a traveler who just saved me from these men. Arthur, this is my brother, Elyan."

"How do you do?" Arthur asked, presenting a friendly smile.

Elyan remained cautious. "I'm grateful to you for saving my sister but I must ask at what price?"

Arthur's smile slipped from his face. Offended, he stated, "Justice to your sister's honor is the only reward I require. Seeing as that has been given, I'm satisfied and shall be on my way."

He turned to go.

"Wait!" Gwen bit her lip as he turned around. "Maybe you can help us."

"Gwen," Elyan warned.

"Elyan, he's a traveler," Gwen pointed out. "Perhaps he's seen something."

"Seen something? Are you looking for someone?" Arthur prompted, somewhat concerned.

"It's our friend," Elyan reluctantly admitted. "We think he might have been kidnapped."

"I'm sorry," Arthur mourned. "That is truly terrible news."

"Perhaps you've seen him?" Gwen said with hopeful eyes. "He wouldn't be hard to miss. He's a dragon, you see, and –"

Arthur interrupted her, his eyes wide. "A dragon? What is his name?"

Gwen and Elyan shared a glance before the former answered. "Merlin. His name is Merlin."

Arthur's reaction was not what Gwen had been expecting. Frustration and fear seemed to radiate off the man has he slammed his sword into the dirt. "That _IDIOT!"_ he shouted before rounding on the two, "Are you _sure_ he was kidnapped?"

"You know him?"

"Of course I do. What possessed him to come here? I knew something had happened to him! I just _knew_ it! That idiotic _simpleton!_ "

Gwen opened her mouth to defend Merlin's intelligence but a random burst of wind whipped up the area around them, cutting her off. Leaves and twigs were sent flying in all directions as a cyclone suddenly slammed into the forest floor from the sky. Elyan wrapped his arms around Gwen, facing his body towards the twister, while Arthur threw up his arms. The small windstorm disappeared as soon as it had appeared and Gwen peeked around Elyan's shoulder with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Standing in the clearing was a woman of remarkable beauty in an evergreen dress that accentuated her large emerald eyes. Long dark hair hung in waves across her shoulder, contrasting drastically with her incredibly pale skin. Her cherry red lips formed a pleased grin as she surveyed her rather startled audience.

"Oh good! You've met!"

"Who are _you?"_ Arthur asked incredulously.

"Morgana, High Priestess of the Old Religion – at least, I was until yesterday."

Gwen gasped. "You sent Finna to me?"

Morgana sent her a rather dazzling smile and nodded. "Yes, she told me she rather liked you. You have an amazing destiny, Guinevere." She then turned to Arthur, "Although it's not as amazing as _yours_ , Arthur."

Arthur drew his sword and pointed it straight at her. "How do you know who I am?" he demanded, highly suspicious.

Morgana rolled her eyes, not threatened in the least by Arthur's blade. "I'm the most renowned Seer in the Five Kingdoms. People with great destinies – like yours – affect the Inner Eye far more than most may realize. Many seers have seen your destiny. But your future is unique because it will take more than just you to make it happen. That's why I am here. Now, where is everyone else? By now, you all should have run into each other." Seeing the perplexed looks on their faces, the priestess sighed. "I guess we'll just have to find them. Come on then!"

She started making her way towards the entrance of the Valley of the Fallen Kings but none of them moved. Arthur clearly didn't trust her and Elyan and Gwen's confusion was so great that they hadn't realized she was expecting them to follow.

"I have no clue who you're talking about but I must see to my brother," Arthur stated, twisting back towards the ridge containing his camp.

Morgana turned to face him, puzzled. "Is he alright?"

"We were attacked on our way here," Arthur grunted as he started to climb the steep wall of natural earth. "My friend is tending to him but I'm not sure how effective her magic has been."

Morgana walked back over just as Arthur lost his balance and slipped down the four feet he'd managed to climb, landing uncomfortably in the dirt. Gwen tried not to giggle as Arthur quickly got back on his feet and brushed himself off.

"I may have an easier way," Morgana began to offer but Arthur cut her off.

"No, thank you!" he snapped. "I've experienced the way you _sorcerers_ travel enough to last me a lifetime."

He said the word sorcerer with a hint of bitterness in his tone and Gwen had to wonder how many negative experiences he'd had with magic to cause such a reaction. Arthur didn't strike her as a prejudiced soul but people were more complex than what they seemed. The human soul was made up of many layers and somewhere in Arthur's there was clearly an animosity towards magic.

Morgana looked sad as she shook her head. "Stubborn coin; Look, we can watch you attempt to climb this wall all day but you're not going to make it very far."

"Ha!" Arthur scoffed. "I've climbed far worse, witch. You should see some of the ridges in Dragon Country."

"Is that where you met Merlin?" asked Gwen hesitantly. Her fingers nervously clutched the fabric of her ripped tunic since Arthur was now higher up on the wall than Elyan was tall.

"We met near there," he grunted, grabbing for a thick root.

The rock holding his right foot, however, came loose from its prison of dirt and Arthur started to fall. Gasping in fear, Gwen rushed forward, her brother copying her. Morgana, however, merely laughed before waving her hand. Thick roots shot out of the earth and wrapped around Arthur's torso, snatching him just before he fell. Eyes wide, he looked around at Morgana, the witch staring up at him with smug satisfaction. With another flash of gold from her eyes, the roots began to grow, their ascent taking Arthur higher and higher until he was on the same level as the top of the ridge. Gwen watched in amazement as they set him down safely before retreating back into the earth from which they'd sprung. Arthur, now twenty feet above them, poked his golden head over the edge, his eyes filled with shock.

"What?" Morgana called up to him, a teasing smile on her lips. "Did you think I was going to wind-travel you up there? You clearly need to expand your imagination as to what magic can do."

Arthur scowled. "I have a bigger imagination than you think when it comes to magic, priestess. Don't pretend to know me when you clearly do not. Now, as it is proper, I thank you for the assistance and wish you good day."

His eyes found those belonging to Gwen and the two stared at each other for a moment before he disappeared from view. Gwen unconsciously stepped forward but then she paused. There was no way she could climb that ridge, not with her tunic completely ruined as it was, and she didn't feel comfortable asking Morgana to help her either. She'd always been taught to be cautious around sorcerers, to get to know them first before asking for their assistance; her father had struck up bargains with some in the past that hadn't turned out well.

Morgana faced Gwen and Elyan with a comforting smile. "I know you don't know me but I implore that you come with me. We can't allow the King to stay in these woods – especially now that the sun is beginning its descent. Getting him to the Valley is the only way to ensure his safety. I'm going to see if there's anything I can do for his brother. Will you two join me?"

Gwen's mouth fell open. "The _King?!"_ she spluttered, staring at the ridge where Arthur had just disappeared. "Arthur?"

Morgana smiled. "Yes," she confirmed, "though he might not agree."

Her eyes lit with magic and the roots reappeared, wrapping around her thin torso. She held her hand out in silent invitation and Gwen, more on impulse than anything else, hastened forward with her arms still crisscrossed over her chest. Unwilling to allow his sister to travel without him, Elyan joined her. Morgana nodded in approval before further roots expelled from the ground, looping around Gwen's midriff like a snake. Two more slithered around her ankles, locking her into place, before her body was lifted from the ground. Gwen gasped while staring down at the forest floor as she quickly rose several feet into the air.

In other circumstances she would have been more aware of the pressure on her stomach and her ankles from where the roots kept her securely in place but her brain was spiraling in circles from Morgana's earlier revelation. _Arthur was a king?!_ He certainly wasn't dressed in clothes befitting royalty but he had fought like a man trained to kill since birth. Which kingdom belonged to him and what was he doing in Bane's lands? And why was he only traveling with his brother and a friend? Didn't kings usually travel with an entourage?

Having reached the top of the ridge, the roots released her stomach and ankles before disappearing over the edge down into the gorge. Morgana started walking slightly north, her eyes flickering with gold while her head jerked slightly back and forth. Gwen and Elyan shared a nervous glance before following her, Elyan's hand on his sword hilt while Gwen tried to discreetly assess the extent of her ruined tunic. The tear was about six inches long and totally unsalvageable. It also didn't help that the fabric wasn't particularly thick; that was why she'd worn a bodice in the first place.

Gwen's cheeks burned. They were on their way to see a king and she most certainly wasn't properly dressed. Not only was she wearing a pair of trousers and a ripped tunic but her hair was ratted about her head and her boots were encrusted with several days worth of mud. The priestess, on the other hand, was the image of perfection as to how a lady should present herself to royalty. Being great with a needle, Gwen could see that Morgana's dress was very well made. It even had embroidery in the sleeves and neckline! Next to her, Gwen looked like an underwhelming peasant that had been rolling around with the pigs!

"There you are!" Morgana called and Gwen was pulled from her thoughts.

Mortified, Gwen saw Arthur standing there with his arms folded, a heavy frown on his face, as he waited for the three of them to approach. Just behind him was a woman kneeling over a man in obvious pain. The woman was rather pretty, her dark hair pulled away from her face in a loose braid, a green tunic and brown pants covering her petite form. The man she was tending to had curly reddish brown hair and a thin beard, his light blue eyes filled with concern and protectiveness at their approach. He started to get up but the woman pushed him back down.

"Leon, I told you not to move!" she chastened. "Your wound will start to bleed again."

"Why did you follow me?" Arthur asked, his frown still in place.

"Your brother's hurt," Morgana answered, "I want to help."

The woman in Arthur's party suddenly gasped, her eyes wide with shock and awe as she looked at Morgana. Suddenly becoming the epitome of reverence, she bowed her head respectively.

"High Priestess," she muttered, "you honor us with your presence."

Arthur raised an eyebrow." Freya, you know this woman?"

"Not personally but she bears the mark of a High Priestess of the Old Religion and the magic I feel from her testifies her identity."

Morgana smiled and took Freya's hand, gently pulling her to her feet. "You have magic," she deduced.

"Yes, milady."

The priestess stared down at Leon who eyed her warily. "What have you done for him?"

While Freya explained the various herbs and spells she'd used to stop the wound in Leon's stomach, Gwen watched Arthur walk over to his travel pack and pull out a blue tunic.

"Here," he held it out to her, his eyes averted.

Gwen's eyes widened in shock but she accepted the garment with a murmur of thanks. Turning around, she threw the thicker fabric over her head and pulled it down. The shirt was a little big for her but it fell comfortably about halfway down her thighs and it did the job of successfully covering her chest. She would have preferred a bodice as well but at least she didn't have to cross her arms anymore. Immensely grateful, she faced Arthur to thank him but he was too busy observing Morgana's spellwork on his brother.

The priestess was muttering softly while golden light escaped her palms and funneled in a downward spiral into Leon's wound. Gwen watched in amazement as the skin neatly patched itself up, leaving nothing but a faint pink scar. Morgana stepped back and Leon's fingers probed the area, wonder on his face.

"Don't press down too hard," Morgana admonished as he winced. "I've healed it but it's still going to be tender for the next couple of days. You were lucky. That arrow almost pierced your liver."

"Thank you," Leon sincerely stated, pulling himself to his feet.

"We owe you a debt, priestess," Arthur said, his eyes filled with gratitude.

Morgana kindly smiled. "I'm glad I was able to help. Now, we need to get to the Valley before dark; there are other evils besides bandits that live in these woods."

Everyone shared nervous glances.

"You can stay with us," Gwen invited. "We have a camp set up in the middle of the Valley. There should be plenty of room for everyone."

Agreeing with her proposal, the three gathered their small provisions and everyone followed Morgana since the priestess claimed to see a way down into the Valley thirty feet ahead. As they walked, introductions were made. Leon, though not related by blood, was Arthur's brother while Freya was the wife of Arthur's friend, Merlin, who happened to have the same name as their dragon companion; for a second Gwen thought the two were one in the same since Arthur claimed to know the dragon but why on earth would a dragon be married to a human? The thought was ridiculous so the maiden silently concluded that the two shared the name through coincidence alone. Gwen desperately wanted to ask about where the three specifically hailed from but she couldn't work up the courage to do so. She was painfully aware that she was wearing a shirt that belonged to the king and she didn't have a clue as to how to talk to royalty. Not to mention she didn't feel it was her place to pry into his life when she was nothing but a lowly peasant girl.

Sure enough, the path Morgana had promised appeared; a small switchback that wandered down the ridge into the gorge just a stone's throw away from the Valley's entrance. Arthur, Leon, and Freya admired the stone statues of the kings with the same apprehension and wonder that Gwen and Elyan had when they'd first arrived here three weeks ago. The statues were huge, after all, their surfaces covered with ancient moss. Each king had his sword pointed to the ground while holding a set of scrolls close to his chest.

"Who were they?" Arthur quietly asked, his eyes trained on the statues.

"Two of the ancient kings of this land," Morgana answered as the group followed her down the narrow path. "They ruled the land together, side by side, and loved their people – even those with magic. Known for their valor and strength, the druids felt they were the perfect guardians to this sacred place."

"Forgive me but this place doesn't exactly feel sacred," Elyan muttered.

"It feels more like it's cursed," Leon said, agreeing with him.

Morgana chuckled. "The magic of this Valley is old – as old as the earth itself. It is wild and raw, power in an untamable form. Even I do not feel completely comfortable in its presence."

"I do," Freya whispered quietly. Everyone turned to stare at her. The druidess looked at her feet, her cheeks pink. "It feels… familiar to me," she confessed.

Morgana eyed her curiously before her eyes lit up with understanding. Gwen was surprised to see a look of reverence come over the priestess's face followed by a large grin. "I suppose it would… to you," she replied, laughter in her tone.

"What do you mean by that?" Arthur asked, puzzled as to why Morgana was staring at Freya in such a way.

He wasn't the only one who wanted an explanation. Noticing that everyone was waiting for her answer, the High Priestess smirked and shook her head. "Sorry, it's a secret."

"Hang on," Arthur angrily called as she began to walk away but then he stopped, his hand immediately going for his sword.

Morgana paused at his abrupt halt. Trusting in his brother's instincts, Leon also grabbed the hilt of his sword, his eyes scouting out the area with a warrior's zeal.

"What is it?" Freya whispered.

"We're not alone," Arthur muttered before shouting, "You might as well not bother ambushing us. There's not much space in here to maneuver but I promise you your bodies will be the ones falling into the dirt."

"You know, they say that overconfidence can lead to ones downfall," someone said before stepping out from their hiding place.

Gwen's eyes widened immediately with recognition. "Gwaine?" she gasped in surprise.

The mercenary shared a similar look of shock. "Gwen? Elyan? What are you doing here?"

"I was just about to ask that myself," said someone behind him.

"Percival!" Elyan cried in delight.

The giant of a man grinned. "Hello, Elyan. It's good to see you."

Brother and sister squeezed passed the others in their group to embrace their friends. Gwen couldn't believe it. What were Gwaine and Percival doing in the Valley of the Fallen Kings? And if they were here, then…

"Hello, Gwen."

Gwen pulled away from Gwaine, her eyes falling on a man she never thought she'd see again.

"Lancelot."

He was different than how she remembered; a small amount of stubble now covered his handsome face and she was able to see his ears – unlike before when his hair was on the longer side. His dark brown eyes spoke of further adventure and his skin had seen more sun than when she'd known him. He'd also filed out rather well, his features even more handsome than before. Still, Gwen didn't feel the leap in her stomach that she used to whenever she saw him; that relationship had ended naturally long ago.

"You know these men?" Arthur prompted somewhere behind her.

Gwen turned around, suddenly feeling embarrassed for being so close to a man she used to court. "Yes, we do. They're friends of ours. We used to know them back in Nemeth. This is Lancelot, Percival, and Gwaine."

"A pleasure," Percival said, smiling down at them all.

"Lady Morgana!" Gwaine cried gleefully, rushing up to the priestess and kissing her hand. "The stars will shine brighter now that I am back in your presence."

Morgana tried not to look pleased as she rolled her eyes and gently pushed Gwaine away from her. "It is good to see you, Gwaine, though I am curious to know if you were successful in your task."

"I would never disappoint my lady," he assured. "The three you requested are further in the Valley."

"Then let us not waste any more time," Morgana said, walking to the head of the group, "there is much to be discussed and not a lot of time to do so."

"What do you mean by that?" Arthur demanded.

Morgana glanced over her shoulder. "All will be revealed in due course."

Frustrated, Arthur took off after her, the others following in his wake. "Now hang on," he cried, "I don't know what game you're playing at but I'm here for one reason and one reason only."

"You're here, Arthur, for more than you know," Morgana retorted. "Fate has brought you here."

Arthur stiffened. "Fate has done no such thing," he spat as if he hated the supernatural power. "I'm here because an idiot decided to wander into a madman's lands alone!"

Arthur's shouting seemed to have attracted the three that Gwaine had mentioned because two men and a woman rounded the corner, eyeing the group in surprise and delight. Gwen marveled at the tallest one in the group, a pale man with freckles and fiery red hair, because she'd never seen a redhead before. The other man, though shorter, was still tall in his own right, with jet black hair that stuck up in all directions; a curious scar rested on his forehead over a pair of remarkable green eyes hidden behind strange spectacles. The woman had incredibly thick brown hair that seemed impossible to manage, her features soft but strong, with eyes full of wisdom.

"Merlin's beard! They're all here!" the redhead exclaimed.

The woman hit him over the head as she shouted in warning _, "Ron!"_

 _"What?"_ Ron snapped, rubbing his head.

"You said something you shouldn't have, mate," the man with the curious scar sighed in exasperation.

"What? All I said was Merlin's… _oh,"_ he muttered, realizing his mistake.

Arthur looked incredibly confused as well as suspicious as he stepped closer to the strange trio.

"You know Merlin?" he asked.

"Um…" Ron hesitated, looking at his companions for help.

"Sort of," his dark haired friend answered.

"Harry," the woman warned.

"No, Hermione," Harry countered, his face filled with determination as he came to a decision. "I don't think we should hide this from them."

"Hide _what?"_ Arthur demanded.

"But telling them could change _everything!"_ Hermione argued. "Besides, you remember what Dumbledore said all those years ago? The past isn't something we should mess with!"

"Too late for that," Ron snipped. "Mordred's ruined everything already!"

"Exactly," Harry agreed. "Besides, they'd figure it out eventually and I'd rather not deal with the drama that comes with keeping secrets."

"What are you three going on about?" Gwaine wondered.

The one called Harry stepped forward. "We haven't been completely honest with you, Gwaine. The three of us aren't from Nemeth. We're from a place that hasn't even been created yet. You see, we're from the future."

* * *

 **In case anyone is wondering: Morgana will never know she is related to Arthur in this timeline. Sorry folks, it just isn't super important to the plot so I cast it aside. Hope that doesn't upset anyone too much. Don't worry though; there are still going to be moments where they are definitely brother and sister. They'll just be ignorant of the fact. :)**

 **Leave a review please!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much to those of you who have reviewed and favorited this story so far. :) I believe many of you have been looking forward to reading this chapter for quite some time and I do hope that you like it. Please be sure to leave your thoughts in that lovely box at the bottom. Thanks again for being wonderful!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 09

They never made it back to Guinevere's campsite. Instead the rather large group found the nearest gully and hunkered down for the night. Morgana made a magical fire that didn't need any wood – something that made Arthur think of Merlin – and everyone settled down to exchange tales. After the revelation that they were from the future, Arthur wasn't the only one who demanded to hear the peculiar trio's story before any others were shared.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had struck him as odd but he'd highly doubted they were from the future. He was, unfortunately, proved wrong when Hermione used magic to create a smoky image that depicted a world Arthur had never seen before. She showed them buildings that were taller than any castle in the world, metal birds that miraculously carted people across vast lands and oceans, carriages that moved at impossible speeds without horses on black roads, and people in clothing that exposed their bodies in what Arthur considered very inappropriate ways.

After she explained what each thing was and its purpose, Hermione then started showing them images of a castle she called Hogwarts. Apparently it was a place where magical children went to study. The place certainly seemed magical with the moving paintings, mobile staircases, floating candles, and enchanted ceilings. She also showed them some kind of sport called Quidditch which was played on broomsticks. Harry and Ron both explained the game in simple enough terms for Arthur and the others to understand and, while he was fascinated by all these revelations, Arthur was incredibly disturbed – especially when Hermione showed him an image of Merlin with a beard wearing a ridiculous outfit and a crown on his head. A _crown!_

According to them, Merlin was not only a king in the future but he'd been alive for hundreds of years. Arthur couldn't believe it. He knew Merlin was different, that he was supposed to be the greatest sorcerer to ever live – he'd complained about his destiny all the time – but never would Arthur have thought he couldn't die. Anger started coursing through him as Harry finished their story by stating that a tearful Merlin had asked them to fix the past since a man named Mordred had supposedly destroyed it and the future from how it was supposed to be.

"Merlin sent us here," Harry adamantly declared, "to find you, Arthur, and make sure you became the king you were meant to be."

Everyone turned to stare at Arthur, some in shock, others in awe. Arthur himself, however, was terrified. Shaking his head, he stood up. "I'm not a king, Harry."

"Yes, you are!" stated Morgana, coming to her feet. "I knew these three were from the future – I saw them in a vision – and they speak the truth. They're meant to help you reclaim your father's throne, Arthur, as are the rest of us."

"It's you," Guinevere gasped, staring at him with wide eyes. _"You're the Once and Future King!"_

Arthur shook his head. "I'm _not!"_ he denied, anger coursing through him. "Look, I didn't come here to be told I have to reclaim a throne and rule a kingdom. I came to find Merlin who, if you must know, is that dragon you and Elyan were looking for, Guinevere. He can shape shift into a dragon but how he managed to fit into this gorge I'll never know. Maybe he shrunk his size – wouldn't surprise me since he's the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth – but it doesn't really matter. I'm here to find him and then go back to Alnwick. I'm not reclaiming a kingdom and I most certainly am not this destined King that everyone believes me to be!"

And without waiting to hear what any of them had to say, Arthur turned around and stormed off with no particular destination in mind. He just had to get away from it all. He didn't want to have to face the truth. He'd been successfully running from it for years and he wasn't about to let it catch up to him now!

He ended up walking out of the Valley without realizing it. It wasn't until he reached a particular clearing that he even became aware of his surroundings. And what a clearing it was!

The moon was now high in the sky, its glow illuminating the remarkable scene in a bluish hue. The trees were clustered in a circle, their shadows creating unique crisscross patterns in the dirt. The sound of a brook could be heard nearby, its steady flow falling over rocks and large sticks, generating a unique melody to the crickets' harmony. While this beautiful scene was indeed captivating, what had drawn Arthur's attention was the object sitting in the middle of it all: a sword.

A rounded stone, the bottom covered in moss, was the unusual cage for the sword that Arthur felt was the most beautifully crafted weapon in the world. How on earth it had become stuck in solid stone was beyond him but the blade was remarkable and seemed to draw him in. In a trance, he walked towards it, admiring the golden plating near the hilt sporting some language he didn't know. The hilt itself was brown with gold lacing, the blade made of a steel Arthur had never seen before. His hand reached towards it and a wave of powerful magic swept through him.

Arthur withdrew his hand at once, stumbling backward as if he'd been burned. His heart slammed with quick succession against his ribcage, his breathing haggard and deep like he'd just come up from the bottom of a lake. Tears fell down his cheeks against his will as he stared at the sword like it was a ghost. His legs shook violently before buckling, the blonde falling backwards and drawing his knees to his chest, holding himself as he tried to calm down. This feeling… he knew what it was…

"Leave me alone," he whimpered, his eyes shut tight. "I don't want this… I don't want this…"

But his memories of that fateful day were marching before him unbidden and Arthur helplessly succumbed – as he always did – when stumbling upon Merlin's magic…

 _Arthur glanced at his warlock. "Are you ready?"_

" _Are_ you _?"_

 _Arthur angrily scowled. "Now's not the time for cheek, Merlin. We have a job to do and I expect you to play your part. Now, let's move."_

 _Normally Arthur wouldn't have been so sullen but he hadn't really been himself lately. He didn't even know who he was supposed to be anymore, truth be told – not after his birthday._

 _He'd turned twenty one two days ago and now that he was officially a man Sir Ector decided to tell him the truth about his heritage. To say that Arthur had been shocked would be an understatement. To say he was angry with Ector, Gaius, and his brothers for keeping this from him would be putting it mildly. And to say he was terrified of what they were asking him to do wouldn't be enough to describe the utter horror he was feeling._

 _He felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and he couldn't even express his frustrations to the one person who understood him above all others – because Merlin could_ never _know; it would destroy their relationship forever and that was something Arthur never wanted to lose._

 _Merlin couldn't know that he was related to Uther Pendragon, the man responsible for nearly wiping out the entire dragon race and executing countless sorcerers, ruling his people through fear and intimidation. And Arthur most certainly couldn't tell Ector and the others that he didn't want anything to do with being a king. It would crush the hope in their eyes and he wasn't about to be responsible for that. Arthur felt cornered and he didn't know what to do._

 _He'd heard stories of Uther from many travelers and though the king had been revered for his iron will, Arthur hated the fear in the eyes of every man and woman who spoke of him. He despised the idea of motivating people with fear yet his father apparently had been the master of it and this caused Arthur to worry. He knew he could be intimidating in his field of work but he made sure to show people his kindness because he didn't want them to be afraid of him. He wanted acceptance and love but what if he lost sight of that by seeking after his birthright? He didn't want power. He didn't want fame. He only wanted to do what is right. And while Sir Ector said the right thing for him to do would be to reclaim his crown and liberate his people from Bane's tyranny, was that really the course he should follow? Couldn't they understand that he didn't feel worthy of being a king?_

 _Gaius may have given him an education but he doubted it was up to par with that of what a king's should be. He'd been trained as a swordsman and hunter but he didn't think he'd survive two seconds in a jousting tournament since he'd had very little training on how to ride a horse; he'd never needed to learn how to ride one what with simply riding Merlin long distances in his dragon form or walking wherever he needed to._

 _Besides, he hated nobles. They pranced around, abusing their power however they desired; and Ector wanted him to be one of them? Arthur became sick at the very thought of having to suffer through such affairs and politics. Having grown up a peasant, there was no way he could understand the ins and outs of court life. Ector would be throwing him to the wolves if he ever tried to claim the throne, let alone everyone else's as the Once and Future King!_

 _Ah, now_ that _was the root of Arthur's fears in taking his throne and the_ true _reason why he didn't want to tell Merlin who he really was._

 _He knew he was the King his dear friend had been searching for. How? Because every time Merlin talked about the bond between him and his destined royal, Arthur would think of when they'd first met all those years ago: when he felt his soul stir as an unexplainable power pulled him towards the warlock's side._

 _The idea of uniting all the lands and ruling over them petrified Arthur more than anything else. He had absolutely no idea how to even accomplish such a feat let alone manage it after the fact. And it didn't help that every time Merlin spoke of the Once and Future King his expectations made Arthur believe he would never qualify for the job. He was terrified Merlin would be disappointed when finding out he was his King. Arthur was rubbish at matters of state and he didn't believe others would rally so readily behind him when they found out he'd been raised in a field with a couple of cows. Once and Future King? More like once and future laughingstock._

" _Arthur? I know something's been bothering you... do you want to talk about it?"_

" _No, Merlin," Arthur harshly snapped while stopping to peer around the corner of a building. "I'm fine. Come on; we've got to move before they do."_

 _Arthur's team (a group of thirty men including Merlin, Leon, and Kay) had been tracking a particular set of ruffians for almost a fortnight. The men had been hired by King Alined to traffic young girls for slavery and since Alnwick's river was perfect for smuggling, the traffickers had made it their business of kidnapping young lasses and taking them away upstream. After four disappearances, concerned parents – including those who had lost their daughters – came to Arthur for help. Due to Arthur's multiple connections and a little magic from Merlin, the two were able to find the traffickers hideout and formulate a plan._

 _Arthur had set the stage by dividing his men into four groups. Leon and Kay each manned one while a good friend of Merlin's, a sorcerer named Gilli, managed another, leaving Arthur and Merlin with the last. The plan was to have Merlin and Arthur's group storm the entrance while Leon, Kay, or Gilli's company would capture any of the thugs who managed to escape. Arthur was a little nervous because Sir Ector had stubbornly decided to be part of the main group. Though not as old as Gaius, the man was getting on in years and Arthur knew he was past his glory days as a knight. Even when Arthur tried to use his new found status as king Ector refused to be left behind. One of his dearest friends had lost a daughter to these men and he felt the need to personally take action._

" _Right," Arthur muttered, turning to his men after surveying the old house, "there are two floors so the men could be divided. Reports tell me there are only six of them and since there are six of us this shouldn't be too hard. Don't get cocky, remember one well-aimed blow is all you need, and don't be afraid to cry for help if you're in trouble."_

 _The others nodded and followed his lead, running towards the hideout._

" _Merlin, send the signal!" Arthur commanded before using his foot to break down the door._

 _Merlin threw his hand up and sent a burst of blue flame into the air, high enough to clear the rooftops, alerting the other groups that they had made their move. Arthur was pleased to see that the men inside were completely unprepared to meet them, lounging about in the common room with their weapons idly at their sides. The blonde wasted no time plunging his sword into the nearest trafficker, the sod letting out a surprised groan before falling dead on the floor. By then the others had leapt to their feet and were engaging Arthur's men in battle. Arthur realized his reports were incorrect as about ten men were gathered in the room and more were coming down the stairs to join the fray. They were outnumbered in manpower but Arthur had a warlock on his side, the most powerful one in fact._

" _Merlin!" he shouted._

 _The warlock didn't need further instruction. With eyes blazing gold, he flung his hands outward and the men surrounding Arthur were flung back into the wall, all four of them falling to the ground, dead. Arthur nodded his thanks and Merlin happily grinned but then a sorcerer shoved the warlock into the wall with a striking spell._

" _Merlin!" Arthur cried in fear._

 _As he hastened to his side, Arthur was blown off his feet as a spell smacked him square in the chest. A moment later his body slammed into the wall and all the air left his lungs. Disoriented and bruised, he inwardly cursed. No one had told him one of the traffickers was a sorcerer! He would have had Merlin take the man out first if he'd known that! Growling over not getting enough information, Arthur pushed himself upward just as Ector fell at his side._

" _Arthur, are you alright?"_

" _Fine," he groaned._

" _Your head is bleeding," Ector pointed out with a frown._

" _Nothing Gaius can't fix," Arthur murmured._

" _NO!" someone shouted._

 _Arthur looked up to see Merlin leaping in front of a spell that had been heading straight towards them. Throwing up his hands, Merlin created a shield but Arthur watched in amazement as his warlock's feet began to slide backward from the sheer force of the enemy sorcerer's spell._

" _Merlin?" he questioned._

" _He's no ordinary sorcerer," Merlin said through gritted teeth. "He's a Catha, Arthur!"_

" _A Catha?" Arthur repeated, confused. "What's that?"_

" _They're some of the most powerful sorcerers in the five kingdoms," Ector answered since Merlin was busy concentrating on keeping his shield in place. "They specialize in torture and are not afraid to die for what they believe in."_

" _Great," Arthur grumbled. "But Merlin should be able to beat him."_

" _Not without causing mass destruction," the warlock snapped over his shoulder, his face dripping with sweat. "Do you have any idea how powerful this spell is that he's cast?"_

" _Magic isn't really my area of expertise," Arthur impatiently snapped back._

 _Merlin opened his mouth to retort but then his eyes widened as a horrible crack rent the air and his shield was destroyed. The house exploded from the released pressure around the Catha's spell, wood and stone flying every which way as the floor and roof above collapsed around them. The last thing Arthur saw before Merlin was buried in rubble was the warlock's eyes lighting up with gold. A blanket of protective magic wrapped around Arthur's body just as a chunk of the stone wall he was propped against fell on top of him and Ector. The rock shattered into harmless pebbles the moment it connected with Merlin's magic but Arthur watched in absolute horror as the rest of the wall mercilessly crushed Sir Ector to death._

 _Screaming, tears unbidden falling from his eyes, Arthur pushed himself up and started clearing the rubble away from Ector's broken body. The golden outline of Merlin's magic disappeared once the house stopped falling around them but Arthur hardly paid any attention to it. Having successfully removed Ector's body, he cradled the man to his chest, sobbing into his grey locks of hair. This was how Kay and Leon found him. Arthur looked up and spotted Merlin off to the side, despair and horror lining every inch of his youthful face._

" _This is your fault!" Arthur shouted, handing Ector's body over to Kay. "You didn't save him! Why?"_

" _Arthur…" Merlin shook his head, tears filling his eyes._

 _Arthur scrambled to get to Merlin, stumbling over chunks of stone, fallen bodies, and pieces of broken furniture. Seizing the warlock's jacket, he shook him furiously, screaming in his face, "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE HIM?!"_

" _My magic reacted instinctively," Merlin tried to explain, his eyes wide with fear as Arthur towered over him. "I didn't mean for this to happen!"_

" _Your magic reacted instinctively?" Arthur repeated sourly._ "You _control your magic, Merlin! You learned to do so years ago! He was right next to me. Your magic could have saved him too so why didn't it? WHY?"_

 _He shook the warlock again before shoving him backward, anger, horror, and despair motivating him to turn way from his friend. No,_ not _friend; a friend wouldn't have let Ector die, not when they knew how much he meant to him._

" _Your magic did this," he accused, glaring at Merlin._

" _Arthur," Merlin tried again but the king held up his hand._

 _Staring directly into Merlin's eyes, he allowed his emotions to dictate his choice. With a voice as cold as ice, Arthur gave his warlock a command. "Get out of here, Merlin. I don't ever want to see you again."_

 _The tears trailing down Merlin's dirty cheeks intensified. "W-What?" he gasped._

" _You heard me," Arthur whispered, his body shaking with anger. "You and your magic are not welcome here anymore."_

 _Merlin shook his head, his eyes pleading for Arthur to reconsider. "Arthur, please," he begged._

 _His heart twisting in anguish, Arthur screamed, "LEAVE ME ALONE, MERLIN!"_

 _The warlock stumbled backward, his hand reaching up to clasp the fabric over his heart. Arthur's resolve began to crumble as he watched his warlock's eyes fill with indescribable pain but then his anger overruled his compassion. Merlin had killed Ector. That was unforgivable. Turning his back on Emrys, the other half of his coin, Arthur closed his eyes and cried. He heard Merlin stumble in his haste to leave the scene and opened his eyes just in time to see the warlock trip over a rock. A sob escaped Merlin's lips but he didn't turn around after regaining his footing. Instead he took off, running down the street until his form blended with the evening shadows._

 _The moment he disappeared from his sight, Arthur's heart shattered and his spirit broke._

Arthur opened his eyes, becoming reacquainted with where he was. The sword still gleamed in the pale moonlight, Merlin's magic freely swirling around it, invisible to his eye but not to his soul. Arthur wiped away his tears, trying to rid himself of that haunting memory. This had happened to him several times since that fateful day and it always occurred around a place where Merlin's magic still lingered. The warlock had set up several protective spells at both Gaius and Ector's houses – one reason why Arthur never stayed there anymore, adopting the Black Swan cellar as his home – and there were also a few places in the woods where he'd used an incredible amount of magic either protecting Arthur or just showing off what he could do. And regardless, without fail, whenever Arthur stumbled upon these places, he relived the memory.

How many times was he going to have to live through it? Wasn't experiencing it once torture enough?

Arthur sobbed, his shattered heart breaking through his fragile composure. What hurt the most was that Merlin had obeyed him for the first time in his life, leaving him alone just as he wished. But Arthur hadn't really wanted that at all. He'd been hurt, confused, and angry, shouting out things he didn't truly mean. He supposed part of it was also due to the pressure of learning who he really was and that only added to his current guilt because now five years had passed and Merlin still didn't know the truth.

Instead he had come to this Valley in a desperate search for his purpose in life, seeking his Once and Future King, and now he was missing because Arthur hadn't been honest with him all those years ago.

"This is my fault," he whispered aloud. "I'm so sorry, Merlin."

He looked up at the sword and froze for he was no longer alone.

Standing beside the stone was a woman with long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. Her pale skin put the glow of the moon to shame, an ethereal power radiating from her commanding yet gentle presence. She smiled sadly down at Arthur and silently bid him to rise. Arthur pushed himself to his feet, his tears still lingering on his reddened cheeks. The woman strode towards him, her white gown trailing softly against the fallen leaves. Arthur didn't even flinch as she raised her hand and rested it against his cheek. Warmth erupted from her touch and the king's raging emotions calmed within his heart.

"Arthur Pendragon," the woman murmured, her eyes searching his soul, "you carry a heavy burden."

She knew. He didn't know how she did but this woman knew _everything_ and this realization doubled his tears as he closed his eyes and whispered, "Yes."

"There is only one way to remove it," the woman stated. "You must _embrace_ it."

Moving to the side, she gestured to the sword and Arthur filled with fear.

"I don't feel I'm worthy," he confessed.

The woman smiled. "You are destined to be the greatest king this world has ever known, Arthur Pendragon. If it is a question of worthiness, pull the sword free and your doubts will be unfounded, for this blade can only be removed by the Once and Future King. Emrys placed it here specifically for him."

Arthur swallowed, his eyes transfixed on the sword. He didn't know the significance of the blade but he was somewhat touched that the warlock would give a sword to his King instead of some other useless trinket. Walking over to the stone, he raised his hand but hesitated.

"You must embrace it, young King," the woman whispered again beside him. "Become who you were meant to be. Only by so doing will Emrys be freed from the evil that plagues him."

Arthur's hand fell to his side. "You know where he is?"

The woman's eyes became sad and Arthur was struck by the amount of sorrow he found there; it was almost a reflection of his own anguish.

"Yes," she answered. "He dwells in a cave under the walls of your kingdom, his magic suppressed by an evil only you can remove."

Arthur looked on her with alarm. "He's in Camelot? Wait – was it Bane? Did he kidnap him?"

"Yes and the only way to restore Emrys to your side is to embrace who you are and listen to your friends that dwell in the Valley. Nobler men and women you will never find."

Arthur looked back down at the sword. By taking it up, he would be casting away his former life and embracing his birthright. Could he do it? Could he become the Once and Future King?

Not alone but with Merlin he could – and if this sword would help him get Merlin back, then he was willing to do what was required.

"Not for the glory or the power," he murmured aloud as his hand wrapped around the hilt, "but for Merlin and the kingdom we will build."

Pulling upward, the sword effortlessly slid out of the rock, the Old Religion singing with joy as Arthur accepted what he'd been running away from for so long. The comforting embrace of Merlin's magic flowed around him and Arthur felt a small part of their broken bond mend together. Hope filled him and he somehow knew that when he saw Merlin again their bond would be restored.

"Thank you," he said sincerely to the woman still standing by the stone.

She smiled. "Thank _you_ , Arthur. It takes a great deal of courage to face your doubts and though they are not fully gone, you will conquer them all in time."

"Forgive me," Arthur said for the woman began to walk away, "You know my name but I do not know yours."

She grinned and her body began to fade away. "I am the Triple Goddess."

Arthur's jaw dropped but before he could say more, the goddess was gone. Flummoxed, he stared around at the clearing and then down at the sword. It truly was a beautiful blade. Sighing, Arthur slipped it against his hip under his belt and decided to make his way back to the others. He didn't know exactly where to start but he was sure of one thing. Now that he knew where Merlin was, he was going to do everything he could to rescue him. After all, he couldn't be the Once and Future King without Emrys – not that he would ever admit that to the idiot.

Smiling a little, Arthur walked away, leaving the round stone and his past behind.

[][][]

Harry sat at the edge of the gully's entrance, his eyes and ears straining for any sound that might be out of the ordinary. Shortly after Arthur had stormed off the others had decided to call it a night. Tensions were high and there was a lot of uncertainty within the group. Morgana had been so upset about Arthur leaving that she nearly chased after him but Gwaine calmed her down, suggesting to let things lie until the morning.

"He can't ignore his destiny," she stated before settling on the bedroll she'd conjured from thin air. "The world is doomed without him."

This morbid and cryptic murmur was left for everyone to ponder as they claimed a spot of ground to sleep on. Harry volunteered to keep watch and had been resting against a rather uncomfortable rock ever since.

Morgana's magical fire had dimmed to an ember glow when Harry's keen sense of hearing heard someone approaching from the north. Automatically going for his wand, Harry silently cursed himself when it wasn't there.

Oh, right; he'd put it away because he didn't _need_ it here.

Holding his hand at the ready, his eyes were searching for any sudden sign of movement. He suspected it was Arthur but he wasn't about to let his guard down; years of experience and Auror training had taught him that much. Sure enough, Arthur's familiar golden head came into view, shining in the glow of the moon. His expression was grim, his eyes filled with contemplation, and his steps thoughtful. A light gust of wind blew through the gorge, ruffling the loose sleeves of Harry's tunic. The movement alerted the king to his surroundings and he looked up as his hand went for his sword. He relaxed, however, when he saw it was only Harry.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

Harry shrugged. "Keeping watch."

"Oh," Arthur muttered, peering into the gully to see their sleeping companions. "I hadn't realized I'd been gone so long."

It was then that Harry noticed Excalibur. His eyes widened. "Is that…?"

Arthur glanced at the sword and up at Harry. "Let me guess, you know this sword from where you come from? Does Merlin have it?"

Harry shook his head. "He doesn't have it on his person but it's in his kingdom – stuck in a rock."

Arthur snorted. "That idiot should know that a rock is no place to keep a sword."

"It is if that sword can only be pulled from the stone by you," Harry pointed out.

Arthur considered this a moment before sighing. Removing the sword from his side, he sat down opposite Harry and stared at it in his hands. "I found it just now," he confessed. "It's supposed to symbolize my destiny."

Harry noted the bitterness in Arthur's tone along with his doubt. This was a new side to the king he'd never seen before; sure, he'd witnessed Arthur depressed or upset but never had he seen him this _lost_. He looked like he didn't have a clue what to do.

"Merlin once told me that destinies are troublesome things," Harry began, feeling the need to console him, "That you feel like you have no control over anything and sometimes you don't even know if what destiny has decided is really the best thing at all."

Arthur looked up, a sad smile on his face. "Merlin said that?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, he did. He has the hardest destiny out of all of us, in my opinion, but mine certainly wasn't easy."

Arthur's eyebrows rose. "You had one?"

Harry grew sheepish, rubbing the back of his head while unable to look Arthur in the eye. "Well, yeah. It wasn't at all what I wanted at first but, now that it's over, I wouldn't change it for the world."

"Can you tell me about it?"

Harry looked up, surprised. He could see that Arthur was searching for something in that question. Reassurance, perhaps? Or maybe it was a need to know that things really did work out for those who had heavy burdens thrust upon them. Whatever the reason, Harry found himself indulging his request. He mostly focused on the facts of his and Voldemort's history but he did allow Arthur to hear some of the emotional struggles he endured through the whole ordeal – omitting the parts played by Merlin and the knights, of course. By the time he'd finished, his throat was raw and his eyes were heavy but when he looked at Arthur he could see that something within the destined king had changed.

"You are a remarkable man, Harry Potter," he murmured, further surprising the wizard. Arthur smiled. "Don't look so shocked; you accepted your fate, conquered impossible odds, and relied on friendship and love to accomplish your destiny. I think I have a little better of an understanding of what I need to do now – though it's not going to be easy."

He looked over at the others and murmured, "If there's one thing I've learned from Merlin it is that when certain things occur, it is for a reason. All of us came to this Valley for different reasons but the initial purpose is the same. It would appear as if these are the people who are to help me become the King I'm supposed to be."

"Not that I speak for the others but I would follow you, Arthur," Harry voiced, feeling it important for the king to know he had at least _some_ failsafe support; heaven knows it helped _him_ knowing that his friends were there no matter what.

"Thank you, Harry, though I fear I may disappoint you," Arthur sighed.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I have no idea how to be a king," he confessed. "I grew up with the cows in a field, not in a palace made of stone! Kings are trained to become leaders from birth. Me, I was trained how to be a part time hunter and swordsman while being a full time farmer. I've toiled in fields all my life. What kind of king knows more about the ways of peasantry than nobility?"

"A king who will bring about the uniting of the kingdoms," Harry answered, feeling that Merlin himself couldn't have responded better.

Arthur stared. "You really have been hanging around Merlin too much; that cheeky idiot would have said the same thing."

Harry grinned and Arthur rolled his eyes. "Alright, yes, I know you believe in me. Forgive me if it takes me longer to believe in myself."

Harry didn't mean to pry but he couldn't help himself. "So, does this mean that you're going to become the King?"

Arthur sighed and solemnly nodded. "I'm going to try," he murmured. "I owe Merlin that much."

Harry sat back, satisfied. "I think you'll find that you're better at being a king than you realize."

Arthur quietly scoffed though he softly whispered, "We'll see."

He then ended the conversation by standing, suggesting that Harry switch with someone since they only had a couple of hours before the sun would rise. Realizing that the sky was indeed beginning to lighten, Harry woke Elyan who had volunteered next watch before crawling onto a bedroll Hermione had laid out for him. He would have liked to lay there thinking about all Arthur had revealed concerning his life in this bizarre timeline but he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open. The moment he'd removed his glasses, his lids shut of their own accord and he drifted off to sleep.

[][][]

Harry woke to Ron gently shaking his shoulder. "Sorry mate," he muttered, "but if you want any breakfast, you'd best get up."

Harry groaned, feeling around for his glasses before sitting up, his hair flying in all directions. After stretching and feeling his shoulders lightly pop, he pulled his tunic down and observed his surroundings. The camp was as silent as the grave, the tension from the night before back in full force. Arthur sat close to Leon, ignoring Morgana's silent stare while Gwen, Hermione, Freya, and the knights picked at the dried pieces of meat Ron now handed to him.

"Cheers," Harry murmured, accepting the food and using his teeth to cut through the rough texture.

"Now that Harry is finally awake," said Morgana, breaking the silence, "will you answer my question?"

Arthur smirked a little and Harry noticed the usual mischief the king displayed when he and Merlin were planning on being difficult _. At least that hasn't changed_ , he inwardly grinned.

"And what question would that be?" Arthur asked, "Since you seemed to have quite a few of them when you so rudely woke me this morning with your screeching."

"I wasn't screeching!" Morgana snapped, frustrated. "I was surprised to see you back – and with a magical sword no less! I'm sure I'm not the only one who wonders where you got such a thing."

"Though we didn't know it was magical, we are curious, sire," Leon admitted.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "How many times have I told you, Leon; don't call me that."

"What's the matter, princess? Afraid to accept your birthright?" Gwaine teased.

Arthur mouthed the word 'princess' with a look of shock and displeasure. "What did you just call me?" he demanded.

"Gwaine, not helping," Percival warned.

The rogue flipped his hair out of his face without fear. "What? I'm genuinely curious. You say you're the Once and Future King –"

"To be clear," Arthur interrupted, glaring at him, " _I_ didn't make _any_ such claim. In fact, I _denied_ it."

"You say deny," Gwen hesitantly began and Arthur turned a much gentler gaze on her. The woman's cheeks darkened as she looked at her hands and muttered, "Does that mean it _is_ true but you're refusing to acknowledge it?"

"Yes, why are you running away?" Morgana taunted. "I would have expected Camelot's true king to be courageous but all I see before me is a coward."

Arthur leapt to his feet, his face filled with anger. Harry winced and leaned backward, ready for the explosion that was about to come. And come it did.

"You think I _wanted_ this?!" Arthur bellowed, surprising the others as he continued to rage, "To live my whole life believing I wasn't anything special only to learn when I turned twenty one that my father was _Uther Pendragon"_ – he bitterly spat the name – "a man who murdered _hundreds_ of people, nearly caused the extinction of the dragons, and stirred up discord in every kingdom across these lands? A man whose name still strikes fear in the eyes of innocent men, women, and children?! Why on earth would I want to associate myself with such cruelty? And why would I want to be the Once and Future King when I don't even know how to rule a single kingdom?

"I grew up with cows, pigs, and peasants! I don't understand the logistics of court! I don't know what is acceptable and what is not! I can't fathom commanding men that have survived sieges and fought in wars when all I've done is settle a few tavern brawls and stopped a few slave traffickers. How can I ask kings and queens who have been ruling their entire lives to step down and allow me, a man who is a commoner in all but birth, to take over their kingdoms as my own? How can I command armies to do my bidding when the men that make up those legions have seen combat the likes of which I never have?

"And how can I ask Emrys to do my bidding when I have _betrayed_ him, rejected him _and_ his magic, and _forced_ him to come to this forsaken place in an ignorant search for me? How can I even face him, knowing that I've been lying to him for years, keeping the truth from him? Sure, banishing him from my side made it easier but the guilt is still there. It's been eating at me for five long years and now, when I've finally come to the decision to stop running, my warlock is kidnapped by Bane and his magic is chained!

"That's right," he cried when seeing the shocked looks on their faces, "I know what happened to Merlin! The Triple Goddess came to me last night and told me. She said that in order to free him I need that sword" – he pointed to Excalibur – "and I need to accept the destiny I've been running from for five horrible years. So _no_ , Morgana, I'm _not_ courageous. I'm not the man you were expecting or hoping to lead this country into a new age. But I am a man who desperately needs to do the right thing so I am asking you to help me become the King I'm supposed to be so that I can free Merlin. I care not for the riches, for the glory, or for the crown. I just want my warlock back."

Arthur looked so lost and broken. It was heart wrenching. His eyes were on his feet, his hands balled into fists as he tried and failed to keep his emotions in control. His body shook and his tears fell down his cheeks when he looked back up at the group. Harry had rarely seen the king display such open emotion. Like Albus Dumbledore, Arthur had become someone Harry looked up to and respected over the years so it was painful to watch him fall so utterly and completely apart. Glancing at Ron and Hermione, he could tell they were having similar feelings.

"None of you can know what it feels like," Arthur whispered into the stunned silence, "this bond that Merlin and I share. He once described the bond between Emrys and the Once and Future King as being two sides of the same coin. Have you ever been so close to someone that you could almost read what they were thinking – feel what they were feeling? Have you ever lost someone so dear to you that you felt as if a part of you had died when they were gone? Imagine that pain magnified ten times over and then you may begin to understand the torture I've been suffering from for the last five years.

"Taking up my title is the only way to mend what I have broken but I can't rescue Merlin alone. I'm asking for your help. I believe we were brought together at this moment in time because destiny is tired of waiting. Merlin is in trouble and I will ride into the mouth of Hell, if I have to, to save him. Will you help me?"

To everyone's shock – except perhaps Harry, Ron, and Hermione – Gwen answered immediately with a resounding yes. Arthur looked at her, his blue eyes wide with surprise. The young maid smiled, her countenance displaying the kindness she was famous for in the future.

"I will help you, Arthur," she stated without restraint. "Merlin is my friend but you are the reason I came to this Valley in the first place. I was told I was supposed to help the Once and Future King and so here I am. I'm willing to do whatever it is you ask of me, Sire."

She then curtsied to him, her head respectfully bowed.

"That's really not necessary," Arthur began.

But Lancelot interrupted him. "If you are to be king, you must accept the loyalty of your subjects." He then stood and shocked Arthur by falling into a steep bow. "I do not know Merlin but it is easy to see how much he means to you. A man who cares so deeply for another is one that reassures me will be a great king. You have my allegiance and my sword, Your Majesty."

Percival stood. "I experienced Uther's tyranny firsthand as his men destroyed my entire village and murdered my family. You are not your father. I can see that the people will be safe in your care, My Lord." He also bowed.

Elyan stood next. "Admitting one's faults shows humility. The king I want to serve is one that does not allow pride to rule his decisions. Like my sister, I pledge myself to you, Sire."

Leon rose to his feet and rested his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "I love you like a brother, Arthur, and will follow you anywhere. My loyalty has been and always will be yours."

Gwaine chuckled and rose to his feet, inclining his head towards Arthur. "A man that is insane enough to take on such impossible odds and hates the customs of nobility is my kind of king. I'll follow you to the ends of the earth, princess."

Freya took Arthur's hand in both of hers and lifted it to her lips. "Merlin's King is my king. My magic and my life are yours, Your Majesty."

Harry noticed that all of them had unintentionally formed a circle. He was witnessing the birth of the Round Table in this timeline with his own eyes and from the look of excitement and wonder on their faces, Ron and Hermione had realized this too. Humbled that he was seeing firsthand the bonds of brotherhood these men and women were forming, Harry felt inclined to add his voice to those that had already spoken.

"Though I'm not from this time, I want to add my support to you, Arthur. You're the King destined to rule this land. No one else can fill that position but you."

"And we that have magic stand by you," Hermione stated.

"At least, the three of us do," Ron clarified.

This was when everyone looked over at Morgana. The High Priestess was standing a little away from the circle with the happiest smile Harry had seen on her face since her wedding day in the future.

Green eyes sparkling with joy, she stepped forward and declared, "I also stand beside you, Arthur Pendragon, as do many of my kin. While there are some with magic who will despise you for being Uther's son, you are his son in blood alone. The actions you take from this day forward will change the hearts of many in the years to come – believe me, I've seen it – and there is no need to fear your birthright. You have allies that are ready and waiting to assist you, to help you learn how to become the king you want to be. That is the real reason why I am here: to take you to them."

"What?" Arthur yelped, the camaraderie somewhat spoiled as he whirled around to face her.

Morgana's joy turned into a wicked grin. "You didn't think I influenced everyone to assemble in this place just so the twelve of us could take on Bane alone, did you? My visions have been giving me instructions for months and I have been carrying them out. I have gathered your allies together and we are to go to Nemeth to meet them."

"I'm not going to Nemeth!" Arthur cried.

"Neither am I," stated Gwaine. "We're wanted men there!"

"I thought we were going to rescue Merlin," said Freya, confused as well as angry.

"We are," Morgana said in a strained tone due to everyone's outrage.

"Then why are you saying we have to go to Nemeth?" Arthur demanded.

"Because you can't storm Bane's castle without an army, you dolt," she retorted, flicking his forehead. "Bane's army is entirely made up of sorcerers. Even with the five sorcerers you have we wouldn't be able to make a dent in the wards his forces have put up. We need a taskforce, a huge one, in order to rescue Merlin."

"But Nemeth is days away!" Lancelot pointed out.

"And Merlin's already been kidnapped for seven," stated Gwen.

"And how do we even know these people in Nemeth will follow me?" Arthur said above the rest.

"You'll just have to exercise some faith," Morgana smirked. "Now I suggest you hold on to something."

"Why?" asked Percival.

Instead of answering, the Priestess's eyes flared with the brilliant gold of her inner magic. Harry felt something latch onto his torso and pick him up from behind. As soon as his feet left the ground, the world began to spin in a blur of color and sound, his stomach churning erratically from the cause of it. The horrifying sensation lasted for two eternal seconds before the swirling colors solidified and his feet touched down on a white floor, the large square stones slightly glistening from the sun streaming down through windows somewhere above his head. Vertigo caught up a second later and Harry's knees buckled. Apparently he wasn't the only one.

"Ugh," Arthur groaned somewhere to his right before swearing and cursing magical travel. "Where the heck are we anyway?" he demanded when finished shouting at Morgana.

"Welcome to Nemeth," someone stated behind them as Harry rolled around to see a man standing there with gray hair, a long face, and a heavy frown. "If you don't mind, I would prefer if you didn't shout in my halls."

"Who are you?" Arthur asked rather rudely due to his foul mood.

One of the man's thick eyebrows rose, his dark eyes flashing with disapproval. "King Rodor. And you are?"

Realizing his mistake, the color drained from Arthur's face. He'd just behaved quite appallingly in front of royalty and -as Harry looked around- apparently countless nobles. While the wizard was silently grateful not to be in the spotlight, he felt bad for Arthur. First impressions were always important and the future king had just made what could be a costly mistake. But he displayed the inner courage Harry had always seen and stood tall to answer the king's question, his response echoing throughout the spacious room.

"Arthur Pendragon."


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi all! I decided to give this to you a little early because I'm not sure I'll have time to do so in the next couple of days; my husband and I are moving this next week so things are going to be a little crazy on my end. Thank you, as always, to those who have reviewed and favorited this story. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and leave a review at the end - if you have the time. :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 10

Arthur was secretly terrified. He was sure almost half of the town of Alnwick could fit in this hall. The chamber was glorious with a high domed ceiling sporting images of an ox on its hind legs painted in colorful strokes of blue and gold. There were two upper floors and the whole perimeter was surrounded by archways, the columns made up of blue marble and the arches themselves decorated with masterfully cut circular patterns. Never in his life could he remember setting foot in such a remarkable place.

Then there was the king himself who wore clothing finer than any rich man Arthur had ever seen pass. His black tunic was embroidered with golden thread and a cape lined in fur was clasped together over his collarbone with a solid gold buckle. The scent of rich yet tasteful spices lingered about him and his hair was combed perfectly to the side. Arthur immediately felt incredibly self conscious in his worn red tunic, brown trousers, and dirt encrusted boots. He hadn't shaved in a few days so a light stubble covered his face and the last time he'd had a chance to wash the dirt from his face and arms was three days ago in a stream. To say he was completely out of countenance was an understatement! It was taking everything he had not to turn tail and run from the room!

The chamber immediately filled with hushed whispers at the exclamation of his name. Arthur briefly noticed the disbelieving – and in some cases disgusted – looks on some of the nobles gathered around the vast hall. He tried not to show how much that bothered him as he forced his eyes to focus on Rodor's assessing gaze – until a woman appeared at Rodor's side that instantly left him feeling intimidated and small.

Her long light auburn hair flowed freely about her shoulders except for the strands pushed back by a thin circlet of gold resting over her forehead. She wore a beautiful blue gown that, though well made, did not appear in the same high demand of jewelry and embroidery as that of the other noblewomen's dresses in the background. A necklace in the shape of a thick crescent moon decorated with bronze beads was draped around her neck between a fur throw which she wore about her shoulders. Her pale blue eyes were filled with wisdom and she exuded an unspoken warning: _challenge me and you will regret it_. Arthur swallowed nervously as she assessed him with an intensity double that of the king.

"I am Queen Annis of Caerleon," she introduced and Arthur was shocked to see a smile lift her stern gaze into a genuine countenance of kindness. "I knew your mother well, Arthur. She was a wonderful woman. I can see her in your eyes."

"Yes, he does seem to hold a resemblance to Igraine," Rodor agreed.

"Though he does have some of his father's strong features," said a third man who now stood on Rodor's other side.

Slightly taller than Rodor, this man wore a thick bronze crown over his short gray locks. His kind face square and lined with age, his blue-gray eyes betrayed a gentle soul as he sent Arthur a fond smile. He wore a thick red tunic under a flowing gray cape decorated in fine bronze thread and orange stones in the seams.

"But has he inherited his temper, Godwyn?" Annis chuckled.

"Maybe a little," Leon answered.

Arthur sent him a glare. "And you would know?"

"I was nine when we left Camelot, Arthur," Leon smiled. "There are some things I remember and your father's temper was definitely one of them."

Morgana then stepped forward and inclined her head to the three royals. "I'm glad you followed my instructions."

"Of course," Annis answered with a smile, "we've learned not to doubt your word, priestess."

"Thank you for bringing him here safely," said Godwyn before turning back to Arthur. "Your father was my dearest friend. I was deeply sorry to hear of his untimely passing."

Arthur didn't know what to say. He'd always thought of Uther as a horrible man but Godwyn held a kindness that couldn't be faked. Why would a man like him be friends with a man like Uther? Perhaps Arthur didn't know his father as well as he'd thought.

"Who are the others?" Rodor asked Morgana.

"Men and women chosen by the Triple Goddess herself to assist Arthur in his destiny," she answered, before adding, "and they should be treated with honor and respect."

" _Those_ three?" Annis cried in shock and outrage, spotting Percival, Lancelot, and Gwaine. She looked on the verge of wanting to chop their heads off.

Arthur came to their defense. "I do not know what wrong they have done you in the past but please, your highness, I ask you to pardon them."

Annis's face was sour but after a moment she nodded. "Since you wish it, Arthur, I will – but I want it clear you three have yet to regain my trust."

"Understood, milady," Lancelot muttered with a bow.

Rodor motioned some servants to draw near. "You all look in need of rest. My servants will take you to your quarters and we will prepare a feast to celebrate your arrival. Arthur, this is Geraint. I have assigned him to be your personal servant while you are here."

"Nice to meet you," Arthur said, holding out his hand to the well built young man with a head full of dark brown hair.

Geraint looked as if he'd been slapped, staring at the hand as if he was unsure what to do. Wondering if he'd just done something he shouldn't have, Arthur lowered his hand and cleared his throat.

"Um, right, lead the way then – wherever we're going."

Geraint snapped into action at once. "Right this way, Sire."

They left the hall and Geraint had Arthur turn left while the other servants led the rest of his company to the right. Arthur caught Leon's eye but the man just shook his head and silently indicated for him to trust where Geraint would take him. Arthur wasn't at all thrilled but nodded his consent.

"Why aren't we going with the others?" he couldn't help but ask as he followed the servant down a corridor made of solid white stone.

Geraint glanced back at him, a little nervous. "They are being taken to the regular guest chambers, my lord, but King Rodor insisted that you be placed in the wing reserved for the royal class since you are Camelot's rightful heir to the throne."

Perfect, Arthur silently grumbled, separated from his friends because he was a king and they were not? How was that fair? They were just as important as he was! At least Rodor wasn't throwing any of them into a dungeon for soiling his clean throne room with their muddy boots...

After three flights of stairs and countless corridors, Geraint led Arthur into a room that was much too big for one man. The bed itself was _gigantic_ – four people could easily fit in it – with red pillows and a thick cream colored blanket embroidered in red and gold thread. A dividing screen stood off to the side near a bathtub that was deep enough for Arthur to sit in and long enough for him to comfortably stretch his legs to their full extent. He'd never used a tub before but he had to admit he was eager to do so. There was a collection of different bottles next to the tub's edge; probably filled with scents similar to what Rodor himself used. Arthur couldn't imagine himself so clean.

"Would you like me to draw you a bath, Sire?"

Arthur started, looking around to find Geraint staring at him in silent amusement. "Um, you could just tell me where the water is and I'll get it myself," he answered.

Geraint's amusement was replaced with surprise. "Sire?" he questioned.

"Please, don't call me that," Arthur implored. "As far as I'm concerned you can call me Arthur just like everyone else."

"But Sire –" he began but Arthur glared at him. "I mean… Arthur," he hesitantly corrected.

"That's better," Arthur said, smiling easily to reassure him. "Now, where can this water be found?"

Geraint shook his head. "I can't allow you to fetch your own bathwater, Sire – I mean, Arthur."

"And why not?"

"Because it isn't proper!" the servant stuttered, bewildered that they were even having this argument in the first place.

Arthur sighed, running a frustrated hand through his grimy hair. "I'm doing it again," he murmured to himself before glancing up at Geraint apologetically. "I fear you may find me to be quite strange. I wasn't raised a noble."

Geraint's confusion transformed into understanding and he hesitantly smiled. "I see. Well, if I may, can I be honest with you?"

"I prefer honesty," Arthur encouraged.

"A king never fetches anything for himself," Geraint revealed. "If he wants something, he asks someone else to get it for him."

"That's ridiculous," Arthur argued. "Why would I need someone to retrieve my sword when I can walk three paces across the room and get it myself?"

Geraint opened his mouth to reply before closing it and then shrugged. "Every noble I've ever served has been like that."

"Then you're in for a rude awakening," Arthur chuckled. "I'm not at all comfortable with making people do things that I can do myself. Speaking of, I've heard that some nobles have others dress them. Is that true?" Geraint nodded and Arthur immediately voiced his dislike on the matter. "What a ridiculous notion, not being able to dress yourself! I'm perfectly capable of identifying where clothing is supposed to go without assistance. Please, never try to help me with that unless I specifically ask you to do so."

Geraint's silent amusement had returned but he nodded. "Very well – but may I at least pick the clothes you are to wear for the day?"

Arthur frowned. "All I have are the clothes on my back."

The servant eyed him up and down before letting out a sigh. "King Rodor suspected this. He said that if that was the case I was to take you to the royal seamstress as soon as time was made available. We can go right after you bathe and Lauren should be able to make something for you straight away. Right, I'll fetch the water and you can relax here until I return. This room is yours to do with as you will, Sire, I mean, Arthur – yes – right, I'll leave you to it."

Geraint bowed to him and strode for the door before pausing. "Is all of this agreeable with you, Si–Arthur?"

Arthur stood completely overwhelmed. "Um, sure?"

Geraint sent him a friendly grin. "I will return shortly. Oh, I had some food brought to your room – I requested it right after you arrived in the throne room. It's over there on the table." He then left, leaving Arthur to his own devices.

The poor king didn't exactly know what to do. He felt like moving around would only track the dirt from his boots all over the white stone floor but he couldn't just stand here until Geraint returned with the water; he'd look an even bigger fool than he already felt. Sighing, Arthur decided to simply remove his boots and socks and walk across the room barefoot towards the table he hadn't noticed when first entering.

Three open arches separated it from the bedroom, the doorways covered in a sheer fabric that could be pulled back and tied to the marble columns if so desired. There was another door to the left; Arthur suspected it was another entrance to the private chambers since there was a small hallway one had to pass through to get to it. In the opposite corner, under a beautiful stain glass window depicting a forested glen, was a writing desk with parchment, ink, and quill at the ready for use.

"At least I know how to read and write," he murmured, silently thanking Gaius for his education while walking over to the table and sitting down in front of a plate full of ham, cheese, and bread.

Hesitantly he started to nibble on the food, his eyebrows rising in pleasant surprise by how rich the cheese tasted. The seasoning of the pork was superb and the bread seemed to melt on his tongue the second it was placed in his mouth. Was this how it felt to eat like a king? He was mostly used to watered-down gruel, vegetable soup, the occasional rabbit, and wheat bread. If this was what was considered normal for nobility he couldn't even fathom what foods would be at the feast tonight.

It was while he was in the midst of enjoying the last slice of ham that Geraint returned with five other servants carrying buckets of steaming water. Arthur had a mind to help them but stopped himself.

 _You're a king now, you idiot_ , a voice suspiciously like Merlin's reminded him _, you need to learn that allowing other people to do things for you is not only acceptable but_ expected.

Arthur sighed and stayed where he was, watching silently as the servants worked. They were dressed similarly as he was, their clothing coarse and worn, the colors simple and solid with the occasional embroidery in the women's bodices. The two women in the group glanced over at Arthur occasionally while waiting for their turn to empty the buckets they carried. Both looked away with suppressed giggles when they noticed he was staring. Arthur averted his gaze, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. Were they laughing at him? Had he done something he shouldn't have? He suddenly became painfully aware that he was barefoot, his boots and socks left in plain view for all to see. Maybe he wasn't supposed to do that?

Arthur scowled, his frustration growing. He'd never been one to sit back and remain in the dark. When he didn't understand something, he would first try to figure it out on his own and then go to those with experience after admitting defeat. He feared he was falling into the trap of wanting to do things his own way instead of what was expected of him. But was it wrong to do things his own way? Whatever happened to being an individual, for standing up against the norm, fighting for what he felt was right instead of what was socially acceptable? Arthur was struck by a memory and he leaned forward, his fingers threaded together as a long past conversation echoed through his mind...

" _Can I ask you something?"_

" _You know you can ask me anything, Arthur," the warlock smirked._

" _I've seen the way sorcerers and druids look at you when I've come to visit Farworyn. Why do I feel like they're judging you and not in a good way? Does it have something to do with you being Emrys?"_

 _Merlin snorted. "You know, at times I wonder if your observation skills have an erratic sleeping pattern; sometimes you're fully aware of a situation and other times you're horrifically blind."_

 _Arthur scowled. "I didn't ask you to insult me, Merlin."_

" _I don't think I need an invitation for that, Arthur."_

 _The blonde chuckled despite himself. "I suppose not. Now, answer my question."_

 _Merlin let out a heavy sigh. "Some people believe that I am supposed to act a certain way since I'm Emrys," he admitted, "that there's some high and mighty protocol I'm supposed to adhere to that I'm not currently following."_

" _And is there?"_

" _If there is I'm not going to follow it unless I agree with it. It doesn't do to force yourself to be something you're not, Arthur. You'll never be happy if you try to bow to the opinions of others and not listen to what you feel is right. Listen to advice but make your own decisions. If they lead to mistakes then learn from them, but take pride in the fact that you were the one who learned the things you did because you acted yourself instead of being acted upon."_

"Sire? Arthur?"

Arthur blinked, looking up to find Geraint staring at him in slight apprehension.

"Is all well?" the servant prompted.

Arthur smiled at him though it was a melancholy one. "Yes."

Geraint didn't seem entirely convinced but he kept his opinion to himself. "The bath is ready for you now. I laid a towel over the dressing screen. While you bathe I can have your clothes washed and your boots shined."

Arthur realized what Geraint was doing; he was trying to give instructions of what _Arthur_ should have been telling _him_ to do while he bathed. Some might find this impertinent but Arthur could only be grateful. By making suggestions, Geraint was helping him learn what should be expected in a master and servant relationship.

"That's a great idea," Arthur agreed, walking over to the partition.

He felt a tad awkward undressing behind a screen while hearing Geraint move around the room. He wasn't a stranger to stripping down in front of others – growing up he'd had to do it all the time with Kay and Leon because their house only had two rooms – but he preferred knowing the person that was about to see him exposed. Grateful for the towel Geraint had left him, Arthur wrapped it around his naked bones and came out from behind the screen.

The servant was standing over a table arranging a bowl, a pitcher of water, a small bottle of cream, and a thin knife. "If you choose to shave," he commented, gesturing to the assortment.

Arthur felt the stubble on his chin. Yes, he would indeed be getting rid of it; he'd never liked facial hair to begin with. One time he asked Merlin to remove it permanently with magic. The warlock had merely laughed at him and said that doing so would be abusing his powers. Arthur wasn't at all pleased with his answer but accepted it nonetheless.

"Thank you," he muttered.

Geraint inclined his head before heading to the partition to retrieve Arthur's clothes. Dumping them and his boots into a basket, he smiled. "Am I right to assume that you would prefer not to be disturbed?"

For Arthur had yet to get into the tub, standing next to it awkwardly. "Yes," he confessed.

"I'll be sure to knock twice when I return," the servant promised before heading to the door.

"Geraint," Arthur called. The man turned back to look at him. "Thank you."

Slightly surprised, Geraint accepted the gratitude before taking his leave. Even after he left Arthur stared at the door for a full minute. He didn't like being exposed for multiple reasons, one of them being his scars; trying to clear out Alnwick's resident criminals in his younger years had left several of them. He didn't like revealing them to others because most of the men he knew bragged about their battle wounds like they were trophies and he didn't want to be associated with them; he didn't feel it necessary to showcase such things, considering it a petty action of insecure men.

Gathering his courage, Arthur finally removed the towel from his waist and stepped into the warm water. A gasp followed by a contented sigh escaped his lips as he settled himself inside the tub, leaning his head back and allowing himself to relax. He didn't know how long he stayed in that one position but he didn't really care. This was ecstasy – no – utter _bliss!_ It was better than he'd ever imagined. Who would have thought that changing the water's temperature would create an entirely different experience?

Arthur had grown up either washing himself in the river or wiping his body down with a wet cloth; both rather uncomfortable experiences due to the water being so cold. But this… this _warmth!_ It completely changed Arthur's opinion of bathing. After a while he dunked his head under, holding his breath for as long as he could, simply enjoying being surrounded in the peace and quiet of his first hot bath.

It wasn't until he felt the water's temperature beginning to decrease that he realized he should probably actually wash himself. Turning to the small table next to the tub, he surveyed the items before beginning by washing his hair with a concoction that smelled decent enough. After thoroughly scrubbing, he dunked his head and scrubbed some more. After making sure all of the mixture was out of his hair, he grabbed the bar of soap and started lathering his body. The suds turned a darker color, the dirt collecting in it from off his skin. Arthur was somewhat repulsed by how much the water changed from being clear to a murky gray by the time he was finished. Hastily getting out of the water the second he was done, he grabbed the towel and worked on drying himself off.

After securing the towel about his waist, Arthur approached the table displaying the necessary tools to comb his hair and shave his face. When he was done, Arthur looked at himself in the mirror and was astounded by what he saw. His skin was clean, not a hint of dirt anywhere, and his hair was lighter and softer than it had ever been. He glanced down at the tub and smirked.

"I guess there's one advantage to accepting who I am," he lightly chuckled to himself.

Not really knowing what to do while waiting for Geraint to return, Arthur sat himself down at the dining table where he'd been earlier and returned to thinking. Now that the luxury and relaxation of the bath was over, Merlin's words once more echoed in his head.

" _Listen to advice but make your own decisions. If they lead to mistakes then learn from them, but take pride in the fact that you were the one who learned the things you did because you acted yourself instead of being acted upon."_

Arthur wanted to hit himself. He'd been so overwhelmed with what he should and shouldn't do that he'd forgotten to be himself. Sure he was flustered when meeting King Rodor and the others but he didn't need to sit here and stress over what they thought of him. Just because he had accepted his birthright didn't mean he had to stop being the man he'd chosen to be. He was sure mistakes would be made as he trundled forward in his new role but he couldn't live behind the fear of opinions if he wanted to progress into the king _he_ wanted to be.

Arthur's head fell into his hands and he smiled weakly, staring at the wooden table. "He'd definitely call me a dollophead at this point," he weakly chuckled.

Even when not physically present, Merlin was continuing to influence him. And then an incredible amount of guilt and sadness passed through him for while he was relaxing in the comforts of an enormous castle, Merlin was somewhere in chains, his very life force painfully suppressed against his will. Anger like nothing Arthur had ever felt before replaced the grief and he suddenly slammed his fist into the table. Someone yelped to his right and Arthur was once against startled by finding Geraint standing there.

"Sorry," he apologized, "but I did knock."

"I'm afraid I didn't hear you," Arthur admitted, suddenly sheepish due to his earlier behavior. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just had something on my mind."

Geraint looked as if he was about to pry but then the young man cleared his throat and held out Arthur's clothes. "Here, you can put these on and then we can go to Laura. She's expecting us."

Arthur did as he was told and sooner than he would have liked they were standing in front of a small but rather fierce-looking woman. Her hair was worn in an interesting twist off to the side of her head, the blonde locks cascading over one shoulder of her evergreen dress. Her green eyes surveyed Arthur's profile in a way that made him both self conscious and uncomfortable.

"Turn," she ordered.

"What?"

"Turn," she repeated, spinning a finger round and round. "I need to get a good look at you from every angle."

Feeling like an idiot, Arthur spun on his heel. Reprimanded for completing the action too fast, Laura demanded he repeat the process at a much slower speed.

"Much better," she praised, her eyes glinting with excitement. "You have an excellent figure, Your Majesty."

"Um, thanks?"

"Right," she muttered, walking over to a wall that was covered in outfits, cloth, and boxes of accessories, "Their Majesties, Queen Annis and Kings Rodor and Godwyn, gave me a small warning that you might be in need of a new wardrobe – clearly they were right." She looked at his clothes as if they had personally wronged her in some way. "Of course I accepted the challenge to make several outfits befitting a king from Camelot. Your house colors are red and yellow so I thought this appropriate."

She pulled a velvet and leather jacket out from under a pile, the color a brilliant shade of red and the back studded with round golden beads. It was the finest piece of material Arthur had ever handled and he found himself rather satisfied with the design.

"It's masterfully made," he complimented, fingering the material.

Laura looked pleased. "I'm glad you like it." Bustling over to another pile of clothes, she ruffled through until finding a fine brown tunic tied loosely at the top with leather string. "Perhaps this for underneath – with a belt and trousers, of course?"

Arthur immediately agreed with her. "I was afraid you were going to make me look like a peacock," he confessed as she handed him the suggested items along with the jacket.

"Forgive me, Sire, but you strike me as the type of king who would despise overly dressing himself," Laura confessed with slight hesitancy in her eyes.

Arthur laughed, putting her worries that she'd offended him to rest. "You're absolutely right; I would."

"I thought so. Now, go and change behind that screen so I can see if there are any adjustments that need to be made," she ordered, back to being the fearless seamstress she truly was.

Arthur hadn't noticed the partition before but that might have been because there were so many colors and patterns in this room. Trying not to bump into any of her work tables, Arthur made it over to the screen and once again experienced the awkward feeling of having to strip down in a room of strangers. Sighing, he went to work pulling the worn fabrics from his skin and replacing them with the richer ones associated with nobility. The difference was immediate and Arthur was surprised by how comfortably everything fit. The tunic was a little loose but he didn't mind in the slightest. In fact, he preferred it that way. Placing the sword from the stone against his hip – he never went anywhere without it – Arthur looked down at himself to check he'd put everything on properly before stepping out from behind the screen.

Whatever conversation Geraint and Laura had been having was cast to the wayside as they both looked at the newfound royal. Arthur tried not to shrink under their surprised stares, keeping his posture and shoulders straight.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Geraint's face broke out into a grin. "It suits you, Arthur."

"Indeed," Laura muttered, circling him with a critical eye. "My, my, I seem to have guessed your measurements rather well. The tunic is a little loose –"

"I like it," Arthur interrupted.

Laura raised an amused brow. "Well, if you approve of it all then my work here is done. Now that I have your measurements I can make a few more outfits for you."

"How many will I need?" he nervously asked.

"The usual standard? Enough every day wear to last a fortnight, three classier jackets to wear to banquets, at least a dozen simple tunics – mostly worn underneath things, like a gambeson for when you're in training – and a couple outfits that will cause none to make the mistake that you are, without doubt, a king."

Arthur's head spun. "I've never owned so much clothing in my life."

Laura grinned. "And that's just when you're first introduced to being a royal."

"There's supposed to be _more?"_ he cried in horror.

"Don't worry, Arthur," Geraint assured, "Laura would have to sit here for over two years to get you caught up with the amount of outfits King Rodor has."

"Please don't feel the need to do that," Arthur said. "I mean it. I really don't need that many clothes."

The seamstress sighed. "You're no fun, Sire. Very well, I won't overdue it. But you _will_ have more than just three outfits."

"Alright," Arthur agreed though he wasn't at all thrilled. What was he supposed to do with all those clothes when it came time to leave this place? He decided not to think about it for now.

Leaving his old clothes with Laura who promised to have them burned before the end of the day, Arthur followed Geraint back to his chambers. They passed by several servants and a few nobles, all staring at him in shock before hastily continuing on their way. Arthur frowned. Was he to be a spectacle his entire stay here? He hoped not.

"There is still a few hours before the feast, Arthur," Geraint said as they entered his room. "Is there something you'd like to do?"

Arthur immediately looked to the bed and was hit with a wave of exhaustion. He hadn't slept much the previous night and the emotional stress of the day seemed to have finally caught up with him.

"I think I'm going to take a nap, honestly," he confessed, shrugging out of his jacket.

Geraint took it and immediately hung it up on the back of the nearest chair. Arthur sat down on the edge of the bed and removed his sword and boots before flopping backward onto the bed. It was the softest mattress he'd ever laid on and he instantly started to drift. He vaguely heard Geraint saying he'd be back to wake him for the feast before Arthur turned on his side and fell asleep.

[][][]

Arthur masked his terror behind an iron mask, following Geraint down the corridor ending with a set of double doors belonging to the banquet hall. They were open, music and laughter heard in the distance, nobles and knights parading about in clustered groups wearing fanciful clothing. He nervously pulled on his velvet and leather red jacket, hoping that he wouldn't make a fool of himself.

 _Idiot, just be yourself, remember?_ His inner voice chided _. Why put on a façade when you really want to be who you are anyway? People are going to reject you no matter what you do. Just do what you think is right and come what may and love it._

Geraint stopped outside the doors and turned to the king. "I'll be attending you at the feast so if there is anything you need, signal me. Are you alright?"

Arthur swallowed his nerves and smiled. "I'm fine. Thank you, Geraint."

"One more thing," Geraint muttered before Arthur stepped through the doors, "you may wish me to address you by your name but in settings such as this it is not only inappropriate but I might also get in trouble with King Rodor for doing so."

Arthur sighed. "I understand. I suppose I can allow formalities in public..."

"Thank you, Sire," Geraint grinned, bowing to him before indicating for Arthur to enter first.

Taking a steady breath, Arthur crossed the threshold, entering a world he never thought he'd be in. Lords and Ladies dressed in fine apparel milled about, speaking cordially to each other with the occasional bout of laughter. Servants in ceremonial tunics bearing the crests of various kingdoms stood along the walls waiting to serve the higher class while a small group of minstrels in the corner plucked away on several different instruments.

"Arthur!"

Arthur turned to see Leon walking towards him in a rather handsome red tunic and brown breeches. The others in their party were with him, all the men wearing the same tunic as Leon's, while the women each wore a different color and styled dress. Arthur's eyes were drawn to Guinevere in particular and something stirred in his gut that had nothing to do with nerves. Her gown was the soft color of lavender, the front embroidered with white flowers and fern leaves. A simple but stylish silver belt hung loosely over her hips and her curly hair fell freely over her shoulders. For a moment the king forgot how to breathe.

"You cleaned up pretty well, princess," Gwaine commented, ruining the moment.

Arthur turned to him with a raised brow. "So did you. Tell me, why are all of you wearing the same thing?"

"It's so we can be distinguished as being part of your company," Leon answered.

"Though the ladies weren't awarded that punishment," Gwaine said, winking at Guinevere.

Arthur's eyes unconsciously narrowed.

"Women can't wear the same thing, Gwaine," Morgana reprimanded, wearing a fine gown of white and gold. "Such beliefs are blasphemous."

"I agree with you wholeheartedly, milady," the rogue bowed, kissing her hand. "Wearing the same outfit would make it hard for me to find and bask in your unique presence."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fickle idiot," he murmured.

Harry and Ron snickered while Leon sent him an agreeing nod.

"There you are, Arthur."

Arthur turned around to see King Rodor and a very beautiful young woman in a silk olive green gown walking towards him with a warm smile.

"Your Majesty," he recognized, inclining his head.

"Laura seems to have succeeded in finding something suitable for you. I'll have to be sure to give that woman a raise."

The woman beside the king lightly coughed and Rodor glanced at her apologetically.

"Forgive me. Arthur, allow me to introduce my daughter, Princess Mithian."

"It is nice to meet the true king of Camelot," she said, her large brown eyes friendly and her smile equally so. She really was quite lovely.

"It's nice to meet you too, princess," he answered, smiling slightly. "I want to thank both of you for accommodating me and my friends. You have been most kind."

"It was no trouble at all, Sire," said Mithian. "Though the reason we have been brought together is a grave one, we're pleased to have you and your company in our presence."

"Now that you're here we can begin the feast," said Rodor with enthusiasm. "We have a seat picked out for you, Arthur. Your companions may sit anywhere they'd like amidst the nobility."

Arthur was not at all thrilled about the seating arrangements. He'd been placed on the King's immediate right, signifying he was the honored guest, with Mithian sitting right beside him. He was both envious and grateful to see his friends had all chosen to sit together but he wasn't at all happy that Guinevere was sitting next to Lancelot. The two looked to be having a wonderful time while he was stuck with the royals pretending to understand the politics they were speaking of. But, while the company wasn't agreeable, the food was. There was so much on the plate Geraint placed before him that he didn't know where to start. Deciding on the bread, Arthur once again experienced the bliss of royal food and soon was digging into the meal with great gusto. His earlier imaginations of how the food would be at the feast turned into delightful realities and the king's stomach purred in contentment as he filled it with the contents of his plate. He also was surprised to find wine in his goblet along with an endless supply provided by Geraint if he so wished for more.

The night wore on and slowly noblemen and women began to retire for the evening, bidding goodnight to the royals before taking their leave. Princess Mithian thankfully left his side after a few failed attempts at conversation; Arthur was too busy eyeing the table were a certain dark-skinned beauty sat to notice the princess's advances. His attentions were only called away from Guinevere when Godwyn asked him if he would be interested in participating in a training to take place tomorrow morning.

"Training?" Arthur repeated.

Godwyn nodded. "We've been preparing for battle since Morgana came to us three months ago explaining that you were going to need an army to reclaim Camelot. All three of us readily agreed to come to your aid, Annis and her men traveling by boat to my country before our combined armies marched across the borders of Gedref and Camelot into Rodor's lands. Men have to remain fit for war so there are daily trainings where all of our knights practice together in large groups."

Arthur's eyes widened. "Though I appreciate that all of you have gathered to help me, I can't help but wonder why? I have done nothing to earn your loyalties."

"Your father was our friend, Arthur," said Rodor, joining in the conversation. "He would want his son restored to his throne – and frankly none of us enjoy the idea of Bane ruling over Camelot. He's destroyed everything your father built."

Arthur frowned. "Can Bane be stopped? I hear he is a ruthless and powerful sorcerer."

"While both things are true, nothing is unbeatable, Pendragon," Annis replied on Rodor's other side. "With enough manpower and strategy, any man can be brought to his knees."

"This is why we've been working on training our men together," Godwyn stated. "They need to be able to work as a team if they are able to accomplish the goal of restoring Camelot's heir. We feel they are coming along rather well but your opinion is worth more than ours since it is your kingdom's fate that is at stake."

"So you want me to attend the training tomorrow to see how well your men work?" Arthur deduced.

"If you wouldn't mind," Rodor smiled.

Arthur considered it a moment before grinning. Identifying whether men could fight together or not was definitely something he could do. "I'd love to be there," he said before glancing at the table where his friends still sat. "Will my companions also be permitted to oversee the training?"

Annis looked over at Gwaine, Lancelot, and Percival with slight distain but nodded her consent. "They can come if they wish."

"The women as well?" Godwyn asked.

Arthur shrugged. "I don't see why not. I value the opinions of both men and women. They might spot something I miss and I would rather have a problem be discovered and corrected than left unaddressed until on the battlefield."

The three royals were both surprised and impressed by his answer.

"Well said," Godwyn praised.

Arthur smiled at them before standing. "If it is agreeable, I believe I will retire for the evening."

"But of course," Rodor answered, smiling. "The training will start at dawn."

"I'll be sure to be there. Your Majesties," he inclined his head to them collectively before leaving the table, heading over to where Guinevere and the others sat. Geraint silently followed him, his ever present shadow.

"What's up, Arthur?" Harry asked, being the first to notice his approach.

"We've been invited to see the men training tomorrow," Arthur revealed.

Morgana's eyebrow rose. "All of us?"

"Yes, Morgana, women included," Arthur clarified, rolling his eyes.

The High Priestess grinned. "How quaint. What do you think, Freya? Do you want to watch a bunch of sweaty men fight against each other with pointed sticks?"

Arthur scowled as her green eyes silently taunted him. This sorceress was infuriating! She was like an unwanted little sister.

"I would," Freya answered, "since these men are to be the taskforce that helps us rescue my husband."

"I'd like to see it too," said Hermione, her brown eyes filled with excitement. "I've only read about these kind of things. It would be amazing to see it in real life."

"What about you, Guinevere?" Arthur asked, silently hoping the maiden would say yes.

Her cheeks turning a light shade of pink as she shyly nodded. "I would love to come, Arthur."

The feeling in his stomach returned and Arthur felt an unconscious grin growing on his face. "Right, well then, I'll see you lot tomorrow. The training starts at dawn."

"Dawn?!" Ron cried in dismay. "But it's like one in the morning!"

No one else seemed to see the problem with this. Arthur shrugged it off as being a reaction expectant of someone in the future before bidding the others goodnight and taking his leave. Geraint led him back to his chambers and turned down the covers of the bed while Arthur changed into a pair of loose trousers the servant had brought up at some point from Laura.

"Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Sire?" Arthur glared at him and the servant corrected his mistake. "I mean, Arthur?"

"Yes, if I were honest," Arthur admitted, "Though the company was not my preference."

"That is surprising since you were seated next to a woman that every man in the kingdom desires," Geraint flippantly commented.

Arthur raised an eyebrow before beginning to grin. "Are you included in that comment?"

Geraint's face transformed into one of horror and the young man instantly started fussing with the pillows he'd already fluffed. "Of course not," he denied.

Arthur chuckled. "Relax, Geraint, I won't tell anyone. And, for the record, I'm not interested in her."

It was Geraint's turn to get a little revenge. "Was that because of the woman in lavender?"

Arthur froze mid-step before regaining his composure and slipping into the bed. "Of course not, Geraint. Guinevere is a friend."

Even to his own ears that sounded ridiculous. He didn't want to admit it because the thought of courting any woman terrified him but Arthur couldn't deny he was attracted to her. There was something about Guinevere… something that just _called_ to him…

"Was there anything else you needed, Arthur?" Geraint asked, amusement causing his eyes to dance.

Arthur scowled. "No, Geraint, thank you."

The servant bowed. "I'll return in the morning to wake you for training."

After putting out the candle, Arthur watched him leave before stretching out on the bed. Once again he was struck by how incredibly soft it was. He was also shocked when his head encountered the pillow. It was filled with feathers instead of cotton. If he thought he was being spoiled before, this bed was the catalyst of it all. Arthur closed his eyes and thought about how bizarre this day had turned out to be. He never would have guessed he'd end up lying on a bed fit for a king in a kingdom that considered him as such. It was an alien world but Arthur found himself excited for the morning; after all, training was something he was _more_ than familiar with.


	12. Chapter 12

**We survived moving! Now it's on to settling into our new home which my husband and I love very much! We don't have internet yet but I'm cheating by temporarily using a hotspot to get this to you guys. :) Thank you for all the reviews and I hope you enjoy this one. I had a lot of fun writing it.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Merlin**

* * *

Chapter 11

Harry had to admit he was slightly jealous as Ron and Hermione disappeared into their own room while he had to follow the knights into another larger chamber. Freya, Guinevere, and Morgana had entered a room before them, bidding the men goodnight. The day had been slightly strange. Harry and the knights had been led by a servant to what was considered a communal bathhouse for the knights of Nemeth. While he wasn't a complete stranger to such settings due to several situations in his dealings as an Auror, Harry didn't really like others invading his privacy. Ron seemed to share his opinion because the two of them had washed themselves as quickly as possible before wrapping their bodies securely with towels while waiting for the others to finish. After that they'd been given new clothes – the tunics they'd worn to the banquet – and left to enjoy each other's company in this spacious chamber he now lay in until the time of the feast.

The food at the feast had been surprisingly good but Harry thought the pomp and circumstance of the occasion was a little over the top. Needless to say, he was incredibly grateful when the moment arrived to retire from the gossiping lords and ladies of Nemeth's court. Claiming a bed near the western corner of the room, Harry let out a sigh before pulling the boots off his feet. His toes were beginning to show blisters; he wasn't used to walking in such hard soles. Merlin, he missed his trainers!

Harry paused before softly chuckling to himself. Like everyone else, he'd never been able to stop the habit of swearing by Merlin's name. The poor warlock had given up long ago asking people to refrain from the practice too. Thinking about Merlin, Harry's mood grew rather sober. Not for the first time he wondered if he was being tortured again. Harry just prayed that Bane didn't torture him the way Rodolphus Lestrange had. Shivering at the very thought, Harry removed his tunic and tossed it against the chair near his bed. The knights were similarly undressing, each stretching their limbs and relaxing now that they weren't under the constant stare of nobility.

"It's strange being back in Nemeth," Lancelot confessed. "You know that if Jarl ever catches us we'll be hung from the nearest tree?"

"Relax, Lancelot, he's never going to find us here," Gwaine said as he spread out on his bed. "We're surrounded by nobles and we just happen to be associated with the Once and Future King. Jarl wouldn't dare go up against those odds."

"I don't feel that means we should let our guard down," Percival countered, agreeing with Lancelot. "Plenty of noblemen had done dealings with him in the past."

"Excuse me," said Elyan, "but what are the three of you talking about?"

"We're wanted men," Lancelot answered without a care in the world.

"You're criminals?" Leon asked with slight distaste.

"On the contrary," Gwaine defended, "we're the good guys. We may be mercenaries but we only take jobs that help those who can't help themselves."

"And this Jarl character," Harry prompted, "I take it he's a less than favorable bloke?"

"He's a slave trader," Percival revealed before hesitantly adding, "And we may have completely destroyed his base of operations and exposed him to the right people last we were here."

"Which is why you had to leave," Elyan realized. "That's why, isn't it?"

Lancelot nodded. "We'd been asked by a noble in Mercia to reclaim his kidnapped daughter. The trail led us to Penryn but it took months before we were able to find any further clues as to where she was and who had taken her. We'll forever be grateful to your father for helping us find a place to stay during that time; discovering lodging in Penryn is as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack."

"Penryn is an incredibly busy town," Elyan explained to Harry and Leon. "It's located in the middle of the kingdom and has everything anyone could ever want when it comes to trade. It's a goldmine for both merchants and shoppers."

"How did you run into Elyan's father?" asked Leon.

"Right place, right time," Gwaine answered with a shrug.

"They helped prevent a rather drunk man from attacking my father on his way home from the tavern," Elyan elaborated. "He gave them a place to stay for the night before talking to a friend the next day who owned one of the nearby inns."

"And we lived there until we were able to gather enough information to find Jarl," said Percival. "We took our findings to the authorities and they sent word to King Rodor who responded by sending a battalion to take down the slave trade within his lands. Nemeth does not condone slavery."

"We naturally got involved in the clean up," Lancelot sighed, "and Jarl recognized us since we'd been kind of working undercover for him for about a week before we betrayed him."

"And while most of his slimy associates were arrested, Jarl escaped," Gwaine muttered. "We figured it wouldn't be in our best interests to stick around so we left Penryn and Nemeth as fast as we could."

"It's good to get the full story," Elyan said, frowning at the three mercenaries. "That tale of going to visit Percival's dying mother just didn't seem to add up."

Percival looked sheepish as he apologized. "We're sorry we lied to you, Elyan. We just didn't want anything to happen to you, Gwen, or Tom. If Jarl ever found out that we were associated with you while in the city, he could have done something all of us would have regretted."

"I understand," Elyan sighed, "but it might be good to tell Gwen the truth."

"I think we'll leave that one up to you, Gwaine," Lancelot immediately answered.

Gwaine frowned. "I thought you two worked out your differences."

"We have," Lancelot muttered, "but it's still awkward when the two of us are alone. There isn't attraction anymore, it's just… a lot happened between us and there are some things we're not proud of."

Elyan's eyes narrowed. "You never…?"

" _No!"_ Lancelot cried, horrified by the implication. "Gracious no! I do not seduce women as Gwaine does, Elyan."

Elyan relaxed. "Good, because if you had, I probably would be trying to kill you right now."

"Then let us both be grateful that's not the case," Lancelot muttered, embarrassed.

"So, do _you_ have someone Elyan?" Gwaine asked, grinning unashamedly for being labeled a philanderer.

Harry listened in silent amusement as each knight confessed countless failures in regards to courtship. Sure enough, it was his turn to answer Gwaine's question. Even though the mercenaries knew the answer, he spoke up for Leon and Elyan's benefit.

"I'm married," he said to them.

Leon's eyebrows rose. "Where is your wife?"

"Is she a sorcerer like you?" Elyan wondered.

"She's still in the future," Harry answered, "and yes, she is. She's Ron's little sister."

"Being separated like that must not be easy," guessed Percival.

Harry sent them a melancholy smile. "It's not, especially since this is the first time I've been away from her since we were married."

"Must be nice," Elyan mused, "waking up to someone you love every morning."

Harry became distant, caught up in memories of his honeymoon, waking next to Ginny. Sometimes she was still asleep and he would gaze upon her stunning features with a tender smile without a care in the world. She was so beautiful and not for the first time he longed for her.

"I'd love to be where you're at right now, mate," Gwaine chuckled, breaking Harry's living fantasies.

The Auror blushed. "I'm rather grateful that you're not, Gwaine. Some things are meant to be private."

Sensing that a change was needed in conversation, Leon suggested going to sleep to prepare for the training tomorrow.

"Do you think Arthur is going to want to participate?" Lancelot asked.

Leon smirked. "If he doesn't I would fear there was something wrong with him. He loves training as much as the flower loves the sun."

"Then we're in for a treat," Gwaine grinned. "Who wants to place bets?"

"I think we all feel that Arthur will win against any opponent," Lancelot stated after sharing a glance with the others.

"He has the spirit of a warrior and the heart of a dragon," Leon agreed while chuckling. "I'd hate to see anyone try to defeat him."

"Let's get some sleep," Percival suggested. "We don't want to miss tomorrow's entertainment."

Harry doused the lights with a wave of his hand, snuffing out the candle flames around the room instantly. There was a collective yelp of surprise before the men chuckled and thanked him. Harry grinned in the dark before taking his glasses off and settling in for the night. It was sure to be an exciting morning.

[][][]

Harry was woken the next morning by a servant dropping off a bundle of clothes near the door. Lancelot was already up; he went to quietly speak with the servant so as not to wake the others. Noticing Harry, he ventured over with the bundle.

"New tunics," he muttered. "They're for less formal settings."

"At least these ones aren't all the same," Harry muttered, eyeing the small assortment.

Lancelot smiled. "Well, since you're the first to wake, you get first pick."

"Shouldn't that be you?"

Lancelot frowned a moment before shrugging and pulling out a gray tunic with brown leather cording lacing up the top. He then handed the stack to Harry who began to peruse the limited selection. Deciding on a light green top, he pulled it from the pile and set the clothes down on a nearby chair before slipping the cotton fabric over his head. He wasn't used to wearing clothes like these but it was the style; he'd stick out like a sore thumb in his wizard robes or the standard jeans-and-a-tee-shirt look he was used to. Copying Lancelot by placing a leather belt loosely around his waist, Harry then set to work pulling on his boots. At this point the others had woken and were busy making their own selections.

"Best hurry," Leon muttered, "it's nearly dawn."

The six men quickly finished dressing and headed for the door where they met Ron and the girls minus Morgana; apparently the High Priestess desired sleep more than entertainment first thing in the morning. Gwaine looked rather disappointed by the news but he quickly perked up and followed the others who were being led to the training grounds by the servant Lancelot had spoken to earlier.

"This better be worth it," Ron grumbled quietly in Harry's ear. "We're going off less than five hours of sleep!"

Harry smirked. "Ron, we've pulled countless all-nighters at the office; what's so bad with going without a little sleep?"

"He doesn't have anything in his stomach," Hermione pointed out.

"Ah, that explains it," Harry muttered, sharing Hermione's grin.

"Oh, sod off, both of you," Ron snapped, speeding up to talk to Elyan.

Harry and Hermione snickered, following the procession down a large stone staircase and hallway that ended with an open archway to the training field. The lawn was flat, the grass trodden down with many years of use. Rows upon rows of weapons were lined up along the edges of the field holding axes, swords, javelins, wooden poles, maces, and other medieval weapons Harry had only ever seen in books and museums. The whole area was full of men, pairs facing off and already in the midst of some duel, their weapons of choice causing rhythmic clangs throughout the air each time they were forced together.

"Wow," Hermione breathed, her eyes shining with fascination.

"I've seen things like this in movies but never in real life," Harry muttered.

"Harry, Hermione, look!" Ron cried, pointing to further down the field.

Harry followed Ron's finger towards a section of the training ground that had been quartered off. There were men and women gathered there, knights and servants alike, watching at least fifty different duels that were nothing but –

"Magic," Harry gasped, his eyes wide.

"But of course," someone said behind them. "If we are to take back a kingdom currently possessing a magical army, we'll have to fight fire with fire."

The trio turned to see a man with a grizzled beard, long black hair, and warrior-hardened eyes. He was as big as an ox and probably as strong as one too if his muscles had anything to say about it. He was surveying the field with a calculating eye and heavy frown.

"Excuse me but who are you?" asked Hermione in behalf of everyone else.

The man didn't take his eyes off the field as he answered, "Sir Cadogan, First Knight and Court Sorcerer to King Rodor, at your service."

Harry's wasn't the only mouth to drop open. Ron and Hermione were staring at the First Knight as if he'd grown a second head. _This_ was _Sir Cadogan?_

"It can't be the same bloke," Ron muttered.

Harry shook his head. "No way."

"Well," Hermione hesitantly began.

"Come off it, Hermione," Ron quietly protested. "There's no way this – this –"

"Killing machine?" Harry suggested.

"Yes!" Ron agreed, "There's no way he's the same barmy knight whose portrait haunts the seventh floor."

"You have to keep in mind that this is an alternate timeline than the one we know," Hermione hissed back, slightly frustrated. "Who's to say that this isn't a different version of the Sir Cadogan we're familiar with?"

"Then I'd say that he's got the most altered life out of everyone," Ron voiced. "Even _I_ know that Sir Cadogan was a fool and the worst knight in King Arthur's court."

"Well he obviously isn't anymore," Harry muttered, glancing at the knight who was still angrily glowering at the scene before them, his arms folded under his chainmail.

After a moment Sir Cadogan sighed. "At this rate we're never going to defeat Bane," he muttered.

"They look fine to me," Ron opined as the nearest pair to them continued to slam their swords repeatedly against each other.

"If that's your opinion then I feel the need to assume you've never held a sword in your life," Sir Cadogan grumbled, eyeing Ron up and down as if assessing him. "Too scrawny for swordsmanship," he continued.

"Hey!" Ron complained, his ears turning slightly pink.

But then Sir Cadogan's eyes brightened. "But you do have magic!" he then looked the rest of their group and his gaze landed on Freya. "Apparently several others in your party do as well."

"How can you tell?" Hermione asked, fascinated that he'd been able to identify them so quickly from the others.

Sir Cadogan shrugged. "I've had the gift of discerning such things all my life."

"I bet that comes in handy," Gwaine commented. "I can't tell you how many times we've crossed paths with rogue sorcerers who were wolves in sheep's clothing. You are right though, your men don't have a clue how to fight together. All they're doing is bashing each other with sharp sticks."

Sir Cadogan snorted in agreement. "That's because what you're seeing are men from three different kingdoms refusing to set aside their pride. I swear their overconfidence and refusal to work together is going to be the death of us all."

Gwaine nodded, his face grave. "Division in thought is mirrored in action. While each of them has a strong arm and great training, they lack the most important thing: unity."

Sir Cadogan seemed impressed. "Tell me, are you knowledgeable with the sword?"

Gwaine shrugged. "I can hold my own."

"He's being modest," Percival voiced, lightly shoving his friend. "Gwaine's the best swordsman I've ever seen."

"That's because you haven't seen Arthur," Leon stated.

Sir Cadogan raised a curious brow. "I heard he was supposed to be here this morning, observing the men, but I haven't seen him yet."

Just then Arthur appeared, walking towards them in a simple blue tunic, black trousers, and a belt holding Excalibur. The servant that had been assigned to him followed quietly in his wake and Harry couldn't help but think the imagery was all wrong. Though he'd never seen Merlin and Arthur as servant and King in ancient times, he'd had plenty of experience witnessing the warlock following his liege in the present. The image he saw now was painfully incomplete.

"There you are, Your Majesty," Sir Cadogan said with an edge of disapproval in his tone. "Finally decided to join the rest of us? Tardiness is not something I tolerate on my training ground."

Arthur scowled, eyeing the man up and down without a hint of fear. "And you would be?"

"Sir Cadogan, First Knight and Court Sorcerer of Nemeth."

Arthur's frown deepened. "If you must know, Sir Cadogan, I have been here since before the first of your men stepped out on the field and certainly before you. I merely have been up on the nearest parapet observing and, I must say, I'm not impressed with what I've seen."

"I can't help if these men have no sense when it comes to unity," Sir Cadogan snapped, obviously offended. "There are three different kingdoms on this field, Pendragon, and each has their own leaders and traditions on the way things should be done."

Arthur blinked. "Then there's your problem. Your men need to stop thinking that they are three separate kingdoms and instead focus on being one unified realm."

"You think I haven't tried?" Sir Cadogan challenged. "It's impossible."

"Not to me," Arthur declared.

"If you feel that you can do a better job, be my guest," Sir Cadogan invited, his lip curling in a vicious smirk. "You'll only find that that road ends in failure."

Arthur looked out at the field and sighed. "It's like Alnwick all over again."

Leon came up beside him, smirking. "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you, Sire."

"Indeed – and don't call me that, Leon."

Arthur walked away from them towards a box filled with an assortment of shields before setting to work removing them.

"What on earth is he doing?" Sir Cadogan asked, perplexed.

"Finding something taller to stand on, I'd imagine," Leon smirked, his arms folded and his eyes dancing with silent anticipation.

"He's not going to try _talking_ to them?" the First Knight scoffed, scorning the very idea.

"Looks like it," Gwaine said with a grin.

"But there are at least three hundred men and women on this field," Lancelot argued. "Even if he has a loud voice, it'll never carry far enough for everyone to hear."

"Not without magical help," said Hermione with a wink.

She then walked over to Arthur who had finally finished removing the shields from the box. Harry watched them exchange a few words before Arthur nodded to her with a hesitant smile and Hermione held out her hand. After whispering a spell, she then gave Arthur the thumbs up and headed back over to the others. Arthur climbed up on the box and took a steady breath.

"Men of Nemeth, Gawant, and Caerleon," he cried, his voice amplified like the booming commentary Harry had heard in his Quidditch days.

Arthur, just as surprised by his voice as the soldiers -all of whom nearly leapt out of their skin as they twisted around towards the source of the noise- paused in his announcement. Seeing that he had their attention, Arthur masked his shock and refocused on his speech.

"My name is Arthur Pendragon," he introduced as several knights in the farther parts of the field started gathering closer while others whispered and shared curious looks. "I want to thank each of you for your efforts in supporting the cause of helping me reclaim Camelot. However, while I admire your bravery, I cannot condone the appalling training that has been practiced on the field this morning. You have much to learn, I fear."

There were several cries of outrage, men looking upon the young Pendragon in fuming disbelief. Harry began to feel slightly nervous; the hostility he was seeing in the eyes of some could only lead to trouble.

"What do you mean 'appalling training'?" One knight wearing Caerleon's colors – blue with the fierce head of a black wolf – shouted out near the middle of the congregated group. "We're knights! We've been trained to kill since birth!"

Several other men raised their voices in agreement.

"But you clearly haven't been trained to work as a _team_ ," Arthur replied. Receiving nothing but puzzled looks, he sighed before explaining, "Each of you comes from a different kingdom with different leaders who have trained you to fight in a certain way. While you may fight well with those from your own kingdom, you have absolutely no clue how to fight alongside someone from somewhere else."

"Who are you to tell us whether we're fighting well or not?" demanded a knight from Gawant, his chest adorned with a gray tunic displaying a rearing stag. "You have no experience as a knight!"

"Yeah, you're not even really a king!" someone else shouted.

The men's voices started to escalate. Sir Cadogan stepped forward with the intention of calling them to order but Arthur beat him to it by stunning the men into silence.

"You're right," he agreed. "I don't have a crown on my head or a kingdom to command – and, truthfully, I have no desire to even be king. But someone has to be and I cannot ignore the fact that I was born for that purpose. I have finally decided to accept my destiny and in order to reclaim my kingdom I need men who fight for the same cause that I do. While my father's allies, your sovereigns, have volunteered each of you to help me, I fear I cannot accept your help in your current state."

"Are you mocking us, boy?" snarled a knight of Nemeth at least twice Arthur's age. "We've been giving it our all, training for war! And you come here and tell us that you don't want our help? I have half a mind to desert you to Bane's dogs!"

A cry of agreement went throughout the gathered soldiers but Arthur didn't allow himself to be deterred.

"I would rather face Bane alone than fight alongside men who cannot fight together!" he confidently replied.

Harry had to give it to him; the man had guts. He was making enemies with men that they really couldn't afford to lose. Having survived the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry knew just how important it was to have allies. While he and the others standing beside him – minus Sir Cadogan – had all declared their loyalties to the king, none of the men Arthur now faced had done so. They were here because their sovereigns had demanded they come, nothing more. The only way to get them to join the cause was to befriend them but Arthur seemed to be doing the exact opposite.

"How do we know you're even worth fighting for?" a knight challenged.

"Yeah!" came a unified shout.

Arthur's blue eyes filled with an inner triumph and Harry leaned forward, curious to know why the Once and Future King suddenly looked so smug. Leon quietly chuckled somewhere to Harry's left but when given a questioning glance, he merely shook his head, his eyes twinkling.

"If it is my merit you are challenging, I invite any man present to fight against me in hand-to-hand combat," Arthur declared. "If I win, you must give your consent to train under my rules."

"And if you lose?" sneered a Caerleon knight.

"Then none of you have to fight with me and I'll try to reclaim Camelot on my own," Arthur answered with a shrug.

There was a collective display of shock over this answer but some in the crowd were looking gleeful. A man from Caerleon was the first to take on Arthur's challenge. Stepping forward, he declared that he would face off against the would-be king. He wasn't as big as Percival or Sir Cadogan but he was incredibly well built. Arthur gladly accepted the knight's act of bravery. After asking Hermione to remove the spell from his voice, he hopped off the box and walked over to the knight, becoming lost in the crowd.

Ron swore. "We're not going to be able to see a thing from here!"

Hermione fixed this dilemma by transfiguring a few weapon racks into a small set of rather tall stands. Grinning cheekily at her husband, she walked past and started mounting the steps.

"Brilliant Hermione," Harry praised as he joined her at the top.

The others in the group quickly took to the stands as well, Sir Cadogan looking incredibly shocked by Hermione's display of magic before joining them. From here, Harry could see that a rather large circle had been formed around Arthur and his opponent. The men were cheering for the Caerleon knight, a man named Bores. Arthur, standing before Bores in nothing but a thin tunic with Excalibur in hand, looked rather ill-equipped next to the burly armored knight. Still, the king didn't appear particularly worried as he twisted his wrist and changed his stance to one preparatory for battle. Harry had seen this particular posture many times in the past when watching Arthur train with the other knights at the Ministry. The king wasn't playing any games; this was his I'm-giving-it-my-all-no-matter-what stance.

"This is going to be good," he commented to Ron in an excited voice.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, leaning forward in excitement; like Harry, he'd been present at many of Arthur's previous training sessions.

"Do you think he'll fight the same though?" asked Hermione quietly beside them. "He is rather different in this timeline."

"Trust me, Hermione, he may be different in a lot of ways but the way he looks right now is exactly the Arthur we know," Harry muttered.

He wasn't proved wrong either. Bores was the first to rush at Arthur, screaming like a wild man, probably to try to catch the blonde unawares. Arthur wasn't in the least bit shocked or surprised. Sidestepping the charging knight, he used his sword to block the downward blow and throw Bores off balance. Pushing forward, he slammed his body weight into the knight's side and sent him sprawling into the grass. Immediately bringing his sword downward, Arthur stopped the point of Excalibur right in Bores's face. Stunned silence met the crowd before angry shouts from Caerleon produced three more volunteers to take up Arthur's challenge. The king trounced each one of them without so much as breaking a sweat.

Surprised and frustrated, Nemeth and Gawant decided to join the growing line of challengers from Caerleon after they mocked them; being labeled by another kingdom as a coward for not fighting seemed to be a high motivation point for these people. Harry counted at least fifteen wins for Arthur before he gave up trying to keep score. The Once and Future King may have been sweating but Harry could tell that it was just because he was experiencing a good workout; the King was in full swing, literally in his element.

"This man has been blessed by the gods!" Sir Cadogan whispered in awe after Arthur took down yet another opponent. "Never before have I seen a man whose sword is _literally_ an extension of his arm."

Leon chuckled. "Since becoming a master of the sword, Arthur has rarely lost a match."

"Rarely?" questioned Lancelot.

"He's not invincible," Leon answered, "but those who have won against him only did so because he was either extremely drunk or exhausted. There's only one man who forced him into a stalemate when at the top of his game."

"Who?" Guinevere asked.

"Merlin."

"You're _joking!"_ Harry and Ron exclaimed together, the latter adding, "He may know how to hold his own for a while but there's no way _Merlin_ would be on the same level as _Arthur!"_

Leon raised a curious brow. "I thought you knew Merlin. Haven't you ever seen him fight?"

"Um, only with magic," Harry said truthfully. "People don't really use swords where we come from."

"Do you hail from the druids?" asked Sir Cadogan.

"You could say that," Hermione answered, a silent plea in her eyes for the others not to say anything concerning their true origins.

"Merlin is of the Dragon Folk," Leon said, drawing everyone back to the original point. "Similar to knights, they are trained from the moment they can wield a sword how to fight in any form of combat. According to Merlin, their training even includes extra maneuvers than that of a knight's if they are the son of a dragonlord but he never went into detail about what those teachings were – said they were secrets that were only passed down from father to son. Despite this, he and Arthur would train together all the time and neither could ever leave the victor. The first time they fought, they were both so stubborn that they passed out from exhaustion. It was nothing like I have ever seen."

"Seeing Arthur's skills today, I'd pay money to see him in a fight like that," Gwaine commented, grinning as Arthur defeated another Nemeth knight.

Harry and the others had been sitting on the raised benches for three hours when Arthur finally defeated his last challenger, a knight from Gawant. The Once and Future King was breathing deep lungfuls of air, sweat dripping down his now reddened face as his limbs visibly shook. Despite the signs of exhaustion, his form did not slump. He merely rested the tip of Excalibur into the dirt and looked around at the now completely awed soldiers.

"Is there anyone else who would like to challenge me?" he demanded, his voice strong despite his fatigue.

Sir Cadogan then stood. "I, Sir Cadogan, challenge you."

Arthur stared up at him, his blue eyes filled with nothing but eternal determination. Nodding his head, he invited Sir Cadogan into the circle. The men made an opening for him, some of them sharing excited whispers, others looks of pure surprise. Harry frowned, wondering why the knight would challenge the king when earlier he'd given him such high praise.

"Ten pieces of silver that Arthur wins," Gwaine bet against Percival.

"Not a chance, Gwaine," the giant answered. "We all know who will be the victor this day."

"He's got to be tired though," Elyan muttered with a frown. "He's been at it for hours."

"That won't stop him," Guinevere stated, her eyes trained on Arthur with unwavering faith. "He's the Once and Future King, Elyan. I have no doubt that he will fight until he no longer has breath in his body."

The fight began. Out of all the challengers, it was clear Sir Cadogan was the best. Harry still couldn't believe that this man was the same one who, in his timeline, had used a fat pony to defeat a wyvern with a broken stick. The man fighting against Arthur was nothing like that bizarre and slightly embarrassing knight. He and Arthur dueled as if it were a dance, their footwork incredible and their blows swift with focused determination. Arthur's arms shook from the heavy blows sustained under Sir Cadogan's strikes but his stubborn will would not forsake him. With a surprise maneuver, he twisted Sir Cadogan's blade from his hands and shoved him backward with his shoulder. The leader of Nemeth's armies fell into the grass but he wasn't about to give up.

Sir Cadogan raised his hands and shouted, _**"Astrice!"**_

The knight's eyes flared gold and several people cried out in shock from the display of magic. Harry waited for the impact but was not prepared for when Arthur raised his sword. He directed the point at the sky, his left palm pressed in the middle against the flat of the blade. The sound of an explosion rattled Harry's eardrums as a shockwave of power knocked everyone within a ten foot radius of Arthur off their feet. Arthur, however, remained standing, his eyes wide with surprise as he stared at Excalibur in a new light.

"What the bloody he–" Ron began before Hermione elbowed him in the side. "Ouch! _Hermione!"_

"What did I say about swearing, Ronald?" she chided.

Ron rolled his eyes while Harry looked on curiously. "She's trying to tame my tongue," the redhead explained, "says that I can't go around shouting expletives when we have kids. _Not that we have any!"_ he snarled at her.

"We will someday, Ron, and I'd rather they not learn _certain words_ before they're even five years old!"

Ron opened his mouth to retort and Harry, as usual, tuned out their bickering. Turning back to the field, he watched as Sir Cadogan, who had been shoved backward into the crowd from the earlier blast, finally managed to find his feet and step back into the circle separating Arthur from everyone else. Nobody but him dared go near the king, their eyes wide with apprehension, and their bodies visibly flinching when Arthur lowered his blade at Sir Cadogan's approach.

"Does anyone have any idea what just happened?" asked Gwaine.

The others shook their heads, completely baffled.

"I wish we could hear what they were saying," Gwen muttered.

Harry cast a supersensory charm on the stands, causing everyone to jump as Arthur and Sir Cadogan's conversation filled their ears as if they were standing right in front of them. Harry apologized for the sudden change in hearing but the others, after recovering from their shock, thanked him with a nod before focusing on what was being said.

"– no idea," Arthur was saying.

"You mean to tell me you have no clue how you just deflected magic when you possess none of it yourself?" asked Sir Cadogan, astounded.

"It must be the sword!" someone shouted, a sorcerer if Harry had to guess since the man was wearing something akin to robes instead of chainmail; though he did sport the crest of Caerleon on his sleeves.

"Where did you get it?" Sir Cadogan inquired, indicating with his hand towards the sword.

"I pulled it from a stone," Arthur answered and everyone gasped. "The Triple Goddess told me that Merlin – or Emrys as he's sometimes called – left it for me."

Sir Cadogan looked as if he were about to faint. "The Triple Goddess spoke to you?"

"Yes," Arthur hesitantly replied.

"And you said it was left to you by Emrys?"

"Yes."

Sir Cadogan stared at Arthur with a calculating frown. "The High Priestess, Morgana, labeled you as the Once and Future King."

Arthur didn't pretend to be ignorant. Instead he boldly declared, "I was not aware that she shared this information with others but I've known my destiny for many years."

Sir Cadogan's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You do not deny it?"

Arthur's shoulders slumped for the first time that day, his exhaustion not the only thing becoming visible to the gathered group. His eyes displayed the sorrow he'd shown for Harry and the others only yesterday; the sorrow that only losing Merlin could bring.

"I've been running from who I am meant to be for five years," he whispered though his voice seemed to carry since many in the crowd shared surprised looks. "But I can no longer do so."

"Why?"

Arthur looked up at Sir Cadogan in anguish. "Because Merlin – Emrys – needs me."

"Where is he?" Sir Cadogan eagerly asked, looking towards the stands where Harry and the others sat.

"You won't find him here," Arthur murmured, his voice heavy. "I'll be honest with you, Cadogan. I didn't come here to reclaim a kingdom or try to become the Once and Future King – though I will accept that calling if it is demanded of me. I originally came because I've lost Merlin and I need him back." Arthur's voice rose in an attempt to have everyone hear his words. "The one you call Emrys I have always known as Merlin," he stated, "And he has been captured by Bane."

Several people gasped, a few sorcerers even swearing in the Old Religion from the revelation.

Arthur continued, "I am not here to demand each of you to bow to me because I'm a king but to beg you to help me rescue a man who is practically my brother. Merlin has fought beside me, sacrificed countless hours of his time for my sake, and allowed me to lean on his ample strength when I possessed none. All of you can understand the bond of brotherhood. You have fought together, side by side, in your respective kingdoms. You care for one another; you sacrifice for each other and for your sovereign. Merlin has done the same for me and I would rather die a thousand deaths than allow him to suffer eternally at the hands of that wicked man. So I ask you, will you join me in my cause? Will you allow me to be your leader in order to help me rescue the greatest man this world will ever know?"

The silence that followed was suspenseful, Harry not even daring to breathe as he waited to hear their verdict. Sir Cadogan was the first to step forward, breaking the spell.

"You have an honest soul, Pendragon," he stated, "and I sense no guile in you. Not only have you displayed the strength of a warrior but that of a king and I happily pledge myself to you and your cause. My sword and my magic are yours to command, Sire."

He then bowed all the way to his waist, a symbol of the utmost respect in any kingdom. Arthur was frozen in shock at first but it was soon replaced with gratitude.

Sir Cadogan straightened and then bellowed, "Is anyone else desirous to follow this man?"

There was a collective shout as the air was filled with hundreds of voices and Harry began to grin.

"Looks like we have the beginnings of an army," Gwaine chuckled.

Leon nodded with pride in his eyes, "So it would seem."

Arthur looked incredibly humbled as he straightened his shoulders once more and addressed the gathered knights. "Thank you all for putting your trust in me. If we are to reclaim Camelot and rescue Merlin, there are certain things we will need to work on in the coming days. I ask that each of you appear here tomorrow at dawn and that you come without bearing your kingdom's crest."

The knights began to murmur but Arthur's voice carried despite the interruption.

"I know this is a strange request but I ask this of you because if we are to work together then we cannot be divided in any way, shape, or form. If you are against this decision, you are excused from tomorrow's training."

Arthur then spun on his heel and started making his way towards the castle, his head held high despite the clamor of voices that rose behind him. As he watched him depart, Harry couldn't help but think with both pride and awe: _Thus exits the King_.

"Where do you think he's going?" Freya wondered.

"Probably to his chambers," answered Leon. "He's overexerted himself – like always."

"Will he be alright?" Gwen asked with a worried frown.

"He'll be fine," Leon assured. "He just needs to sleep. We'll probably see him at dinner."

"Speaking of which, when is that?" asked Ron. "What?" he demanded as Hermione scoffed, "I'm starving!"

Harry grinned. Some things would never change.

* * *

Spell: I strike


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks so much for the consistent reviews from J.H.W., koala789, sweetprincessmano, and MagicInTheStars! And thank you to those who were not mentioned who have reviewed in the past and favorited/followed this fic. I appreciate all your words and your continued interest in this story. :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 12

Arthur lay on his bed, his body entirely spent. Even after an extended bath, private meal, and four hour nap he was still exhausted. He'd really overdone the training this morning. Geraint had left him to his own devices with the promise to return in the evening to lead him to a private dining hall where he would be having dinner with the other royals. Arthur looked over at the window and sighed. The sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon. He figured he had a few more minutes before Geraint showed up where he wouldn't have to move a muscle. No sooner had the thought crossed him mind that there was a knock on the door. Perhaps he was wrong about the timing after all.

Groaning, Arthur began to sit up but his muscles screamed in protest. Flopping uselessly back onto the bed, he decided that just this once he'd be lazy. "Come in," he invited.

The door slowly opened and Arthur was surprised that, instead of Geraint, a head of curly hair poked its way around the wood. Guinevere hesitantly stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. She wore a lovely pink gown decorated with a cream colored bodice covered in pastel embroidery. She was positively stunning and the butterflies within Arthur's stomach took off as he watched her shuffle forward with a nervous smile.

"I just thought I'd come and see how you were fairing – not that I didn't think you wouldn't be alright – you're perfectly capable of handling yourself and knowing your limits – you just seemed tired when you left the training this morning – I thought it wouldn't hurt to be sure you didn't need anything."

Arthur chuckled as the woman blushed.

"You do like to ramble on, don't you?"

Guinevere's cheeks darkened further and she looked anywhere but at him as she replied, "It's a horrible habit, I suppose."

Arthur smiled before attempting to push himself into a sitting position again. He grimaced but kept the groans from escaping his throat as he successfully managed to sit up. Patting the side of the bed, he invited her to sit down. After a hesitant step, Guinevere accepted his offer, placing herself on the edge.

"Leon told us that you'd be recovering for the rest of the day," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Arthur sighed. "He knows me too well."

"You didn't have to strain yourself like that!" Guinevere suddenly chided. "I can understand needing to prove yourself to the men but was it necessary to take on every challenger? You could have been seriously injured!" Realizing she'd just chastened a king, the maiden immediately apologized. "Sorry, my lord," she murmured.

Though touched by her concern, Arthur frowned as he answered, "There's no need to call me that, Guinevere – Arthur is fine – and it was extremely necessary. In order to lead these men, they have to believe in me. I did what I had to in order to earn their respect and their allegiance."

Guinevere sighed. "I know… I'm sorry. I just don't like watching someone I care about placed in a dangerous situation... I also wanted you to know that I thought you were very brave – telling them the truth."

The butterflies in his stomach intensified. "You care about me?"

Guinevere's beautiful brown eyes widened. "Of course I do – we _all_ do," she amended, looking away from him. "You're the Once and Future King. If anything happened to you…"

Arthur's heart shriveled a little. "Is that the only reason?" he asked, speaking his thought aloud before he could stop himself.

The maiden turned back to him, her lower lip captured between her teeth. "I suppose not… for me that is…" she muttered, her cheeks on fire.

Arthur hesitantly reached forward and covered her hand in his own. Her eyes widened as she gazed down at their hands before looking back at him. He observed her reaction with a soft countenance, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"I care about you too, Guinevere."

They had both unconsciously leaned closer, their eyes locked, their hearts stirring with something neither had ever experienced before. Arthur found himself continuously glancing at her full lips and a stirring below his abdomen sent a course of desire rocketing through his brain. Immediately aware of what he wanted, Arthur was attacked by a sudden sense of horror _._

 _What on earth was he doing?!_ He was alone in a room – _on a bed_ – with a woman that he desperately wanted to do more than just converse with!

Guinevere, attacked by the same sense of shock as him, quickly pulled her hand out from beneath his and leapt from the bed.

"I am _so_ sorry, my lord," she stuttered, backing away several paces. "I don't know what came over me."

"No, no, it is I who should apologize," Arthur proclaimed, a part of him withering in disappointment for not fulfilling his desires. His hand burned from where Guinevere's had once been and he found himself longing to restore the connection. "I fear I might have instigated that."

Guinevere hesitantly smiled but an awkwardness had descended between them and neither seemed to know what to say. After a while Arthur couldn't take it anymore and decided that forwardness might be the only solution to the problem. Clasping his hands together, he observed Guinevere a moment, his heart pounding rather painfully against his ribcage.

"May I speak freely?" he asked, his nerves on edge.

"Of course," she nodded, her hands wringing together.

"I have never really been in a relationship with anyone before – with a woman, I mean," he clarified, before quickly adding in horror, "Not that I've had such a relationship with a man!"

Guinevere giggled and Arthur groaned, slamming his hands over his face. _Really? Had he_ really _just said that?!_

"Sorry," she chuckled. "If it helps, I know what you meant."

Arthur groaned again, mortified.

"There's no need to be nervous," she encouraged.

"There's every need," he murmured, running his hands through his hair. "Alright, I'm rubbish at this sort of thing so I'll just come out and say it. I have feelings for you, Guinevere. Feelings I've never had for anyone, frankly. I have been with other women before but never in a long term 's usually been a one-night-stand. Anyway, if you'd be willing… that is…" –he bit his lip –"would you fancy the idea of attempting a… courtship… with me?"

Guinevere seemed stunned and for a moment Arthur was afraid he'd been a little too forward. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so presumptuous. Maybe she hadn't felt the same why he had? Maybe she just wanted a one-time fling like all the other women he'd been previously involved with? Not that that would have been horrible but for the first time in his life, if that was all she wanted, Arthur would have been disappointed.

"Alright."

Arthur's worries shut down as his brain seemed to freeze over.

"What?"

Guinevere bit her lip, her fingers wiggling around each other as her cheeks burned.

"I would like that," she hesitantly stated. "If that's what you want."

"Is that what _you_ want?" he asked, his brain still in shock.

Guinevere gazed into his eyes and spoke with surprising resolve. "Yes, Arthur," she confirmed. "It is."

The joy that erupted within Arthur's heart could rival that of the sun as the widest smiled he'd ever given in his life blossomed across his face. A small, relieved laugh escaped him and Guinevere lightly chuckled too.

"Alright then," he exclaimed before trying to school his features; it was kind of hard because his stomach felt like it was doing joyful back flips. "I have training in the morning but would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow? I'd ask you to dinner tonight but I'm already committed to dining with the other kings and Queen Annis."

"Lunch would be great," Guinevere smiled, completely understanding his prior commitment.

There was a knock on the door before Geraint appeared. Surprise blossomed over his face when he realized Arthur wasn't alone.

"Should I come back later?" he asked.

Arthur stood – with great difficulty. "That won't be necessary, Geraint." Walking over to Guinevere, he took her hand and kissed it. "I'll see you tomorrow," he grinned.

Guinevere, her cheeks exuding a beautiful pinkish glow, smiled. "Have a good evening, Arthur."

"You as well."

She then curtsied to him and left. Arthur let out a dreamy sigh before wandering back over to the bed and falling onto the mattress.

Geraint chuckled. "Is it safe to assume that something good just happened?"

The blonde rolled over and narrowed his eyes at his servant. "Not a word to anyone, Geraint."

The servant grinned before walking over to the closet and selecting an outfit for the evening. "I trust you slept well?"

"Well enough," Arthur answered, stretching his aching muscles, "though I could use another ten hours, if I were honest."

"Then I'll be sure you are kept at dinner no longer than necessary," Geraint promised as he hung the selected items over the partition screen.

Arthur disappeared behind it and replaced his loose tunic with the soft white one that was to be worn underneath a brown overcoat outlined in golden thread. Frowning at the finery, Arthur threw the coat over his shoulders and stepped out from behind the partition towards the bed where Geraint had left his now-polished boots.

As he set to work pulling them on, the servant leaned against a pillar and said, "You were rather remarkable this morning, you know – on the training field."

Arthur glanced up at him, surprised to see Geraint staring with respect and admiration in his eyes.

"I only did what I felt was right."

"I know," Geraint muttered. "Word has circulated through the entire palace concerning what happened and what you said – particularly concerning Emrys."

Arthur stiffened. "And why would anyone be particularly interested in that?"

"There are a few who question whether it is wise for you to lead the army when your purpose for doing so is not to reclaim the kingdom of Camelot but to save one man."

Anger started to course through Arthur's veins. Of course this should have been something he considered; gossip, after all, was part of the lifestyle of nobility.

"Men are entitled to their opinions but I will not change my reasons, no matter how foolish they may seem," he stated. "I told the knights earlier and I'll tell you the same thing now: I intend to rescue Merlin – with or without an army."

"Is he really the only reason you have decided to become the King you are supposed to be?"

Arthur looked at him and said without hesitation, "At this moment in time, Geraint, yes, he is."

The servant's eyes widened in shock as he muttered with wonder, "But being a king is the highest honor in the world. There are men who would kill to have such a position. The power, the glory, the riches – especially those belonging to the Once and Future King – are what any man could ever dream of! You really don't want any of that?"

"None of it," Arthur stated, disgust filling his face at the very thought of these assets. "I have no interest in temporal things, Geraint, and any man who places his heart upon such treasures is foolish and vain. Brotherhood, integrity, and family are the only things that really matter in this life. Power, glory, and riches should only be used by a king to help the people he serves. If he uses them for himself then they never should have been entrusted to him in the first place. Now come; we're late for dinner."

Arthur left the room, waiting for a rather stunned Geraint to lead the way to the private dining hall where Queen Annis and the other kings were waiting. The two walked down several winding hallways before reaching a handsome chamber mostly filled by a long table that Arthur personally felt was unnecessary for a dining party of four; glory of kings, he silently supposed.

"Arthur," Rodor acknowledged, gesturing for him to take the seat next to Godwyn.

"My apologies for my tardiness," he said as he sat down.

"It was to be expected, dear boy," Godwyn smiled, "seeing as you apparently tried to take on a portion of the army today all by yourself."

Arthur took a sip of his wine before starting to cut up his meat. He shouldn't be surprised that word had spread throughout the castle to their ears.

"Sir Cadogan was particularly impressed with your stamina," Rodor added conversationally, "though I fear I must disagree with his enthusiasm concerning your methods."

"Methods?" Arthur questioned, glancing up at Rodor and deciding to play ignorant. If they wanted to fish around then they'd have to cast their nets a little deeper.

"Yes," Annis said, deciding it was her turn to probe, "Apparently there are some strange rumors going around concerning you; that you disapprove of our knights bearing the crest of the land which they have sworn to serve."

Arthur gave Annis his full attention. The woman stared him down like a hawk, daring him to contradict her. Arthur sensed she favored blunt honesty rather than refined suggestion in conversation; he liked her. Both Rodor and Godwyn had ceased taking interest in their plates, staring at him with the same intensity as Annis. There appeared to be a hint of betrayal in their eyes.

Arthur sighed. "Forgive me, my lords and lady, it was not my intention to offend anyone. Allow me to explain my actions."

"By all means, Arthur, we're eager to hear them," Rodor invited with slight bitterness.

"I first want to ensure that each of you understands that I am not a thief. I do not desire to sway one's loyalty from the crown they have already sworn to serve. While I _am_ gracious to each of you for assembling an army to aid me in reclaiming my throne, through observance this morning I have discovered a fatal flaw."

"And what might that be?" Annis demanded.

"Unity," Arthur revealed. "Merlin once explained to me that balance is essential in order for success to blossom. A field of grain does not merely spring up all on its own. First the ground must be tilled then the seeds sown. Water and sunlight are needed in order for growth, but so is a hand to tend the weeds that will try to kill the crop. Everything has to work together to achieve the purpose of growth. The problem with your men is that they do not see the same goal. Each is merely here because you, their sovereigns, asked them to be. Their loyalties are to you, not to the cause which they were brought together. Taking away their crests is the first step towards lifting the blindness from their eyes.

"If they do not see division with their physical eyes, they will be able to focus on why they're really here. They will be able to see each other, their strengths, their weaknesses. They will draw together and form a bond of brotherhood. Only after the common goal is realized can diversity be acknowledged. I do not mean to take their loyalties away from you. It is honorable that they want to serve the kingdoms they have chosen. But that loyalty, at this moment, is a crutch. We will never win if it remains without first being overcome by a unified purpose."

"And what is the unified purpose in which you speak of, Arthur Pendragon?" Annis asked though she did so without malice.

Arthur looked down, his eyes focusing on the grains in the wooden table. "I have learned that I have a destiny to unite the lands under one rule – _my_ rule." He looked up and made sure all three were staring directly at him before continuing, "I do not wish to conquer anyone's kingdom. I feel that to do so is foolishness, demanding every ruler throw their crowns at my feet because of some prophecy.

"If I am supposed to do as this prophecy suggests, the Albion I envision allows the current rulers to stay on their thrones and merely have me act as a figurehead. We would sit down and establish a code that would be followed by every sovereign -myself included- and then I, as the High King, would give direction and council when needed but never interfere unless a ruler's actions shied away from the code and endangered the lives of the people.

"The true purpose, Annis, that I wish to inspire in these men, is that we can all live together in peace, no matter what kingdom we come from. I will be frank in saying that my original purpose in attacking Camelot was not because I wanted to take back my throne but to rescue Merlin. But since I embarked on the journey to rescue him, I've had to face things and I feel I am beginning to understand that while Merlin is important in my life and I will do whatever is required to rescue him, I also have a duty to Camelot that I have been neglecting for longer than I should and I can neglect it no longer."

Arthur fell silent and waited. After a full minute, Godwyn broke the contemplative spell each of them was under.

"Do you want to be a king, Arthur?"

Arthur looked up at him, surprised. A soft chuckle escaped him. "If I were honest, no."

"But, offered the responsibility, would you run from it?" asked Rodor.

Arthur turned his gaze on the other king and surprised himself by immediately answering, "No."

If he'd been asked this question a year ago he definitely would have answered otherwise.

Annis studied him a moment more before smiling. "There is something about you, Arthur Pendragon," she muttered, "something which gives me hope for us all. I agree with your philosophy, and, if it helps, I also agree with your proposal to unite the lands. I see before me a man worthy of being in such a position of power and trust. I give you my allegiance."

She then raised her goblet and toasted him. Arthur was stunned.

"I must say that your reasoning behind your actions has left me surprised and delighted, Arthur," Rodor admitted before raising his own glass, "and I happily agree with Annis. I look forward to counseling with you in the future."

Godwyn also raised his goblet. "Your father would be proud of the man you have become, Arthur. I, too, have been inspired by your vision and plan to help it become a reality."

Arthur sat, staring with wide eyes of disbelief. He'd only spoken his thoughts. He hadn't been trying to win them over. Feeling slightly guilty, he stated this to the others.

Annis chuckled. "Arthur, I have never seen such integrity in any court. There is no need to fear that you have swindled us into anything. We have ruled kingdoms for many years. We would not enter into such an agreement if we did not feel it would be beneficial."

"She's right," Rodor smiled. "We never make decisions without considering the welfare of our people. We all feel that you are worthy to hold the title of High King."

"It is no wonder Destiny chose you, my boy," Godwyn stated. "No other man would be so entrusted with my people's welfare besides my own posterity."

Arthur felt a rush of gratitude. "I don't know what to say," he admitted.

"Just accept the praise and let us return to our dinner," suggested Annis, picking up her fork and stabbing her meat as an example.

Arthur chuckled before doing just that.

The rest of the evening was spent informing Arthur that the men he'd met this morning were only a small portion of the army they had prepared for him. Each of them confessed that they couldn't provide him with their entire military due to the need of keeping their kingdoms safe but they had each contributed a thousand men. That was three thousand all together and Arthur started to realize that training every single one of them – including the sorcerers – was going to be impossible. He needed captains, men that he could trust to follow his instructions and teach others to become exactly what he envisioned his army to be. He shared these thoughts with Annis, Godwyn, and Rodor and each immediately started suggesting men they found trustworthy.

"While I am grateful for your suggestions, would it be alright if I took the next few days to observe the various trainings and perhaps find men of my own?" he asked.

"Of course," Rodor answered without hesitation, Annis and Godwyn nodding in agreement.

"May I be so bold as to ask if the men who arrived with you are some you are considering for leadership?" Godwyn inquired.

Arthur nodded. "Though I feel the need to test their skills, their character has already been proven to me. If I find they are excellent with military tactics then, yes, I will grant them a portion of the army to train."

Annis scowled. "Three of your company I would caution giving leadership positions to, Arthur."

Arthur smiled. "Mercenaries are capable of making mistakes, Your Highness, like every other man. I would not be so quick to judge one based off one poor experience. But I will keep your suggestion in mind while evaluating them."

"Spoken like a true sovereign," she commented, allowing him a small smile.

The evening finally concluded and Arthur eventually excused himself from the others so as to gain enough rest for tomorrow's vigorous training. Geraint walked beside him in silence back to his room, occasionally glancing at him the whole way. By the time they reached Arthur's chambers, the king had had enough.

"Alright, Geraint, what's on your mind?" he demanded, spinning around to face the young man the moment they were alone.

Realizing he'd been caught, the servant shuffled his feet. "Forgive me, Arthur. You are unlike any man I have ever met before. I am merely impressed. You are not what I pictured you to be."

Arthur smirked. "Forgive me for not being some pompous lord demanding you serve my every whim."

Walking over to the bed, he sunk down on the mattress and started taking off his boots and socks. It felt wonderful releasing his toes. Arthur sighed happily as he stretched for a moment before standing up and removing his overcoat and shirt. Geraint took both items away while he settled under his warm comforter.

"I'll be sure to wake you before dawn for the training," Geraint promised him, having headed to the door after laying out clothes for Arthur to wear the next day.

Arthur turned on his side. "Thank you, Geraint."

The door clicked closed and Arthur sighed. He couldn't believe how this day had gone. He desperately wanted to talk to Merlin, to ask him what he thought about all of his decisions, but such conversation would have to wait. Sadness enveloped him as he thought of his warlock's unknown predicament.

"I'm sorry, Merlin," he whispered aloud. "It looks like it's going to take longer than I'd planned to find you. I have three thousand men I have to train; that's more than even ten times the amount I worked with back in Alnwick! It's a rather daunting task but I promise you that I will help them become an unbeatable army. When I come for you, I will not fail, my brother. Until then, hold on. _Please_ , hold on."

[][][]

After a week's worth of observation, Arthur had found his captains; it had taken several training sessions (meeting with various men, fighting them, observing them, engaging in light conversation) but he finally knew who he could trust.

Standing in a small chamber Geraint had led him to earlier, Arthur looked on the scene with silent approval. He'd ordered the table in the room to be removed, leaving nothing but a cluster of seventeen chairs in a circle. In just a few moments the room would be occupied by those he considered most trustworthy.

There was a knock on the door before it opened, revealing Geraint who was immediately followed by Kings Rodor and Godwyn, Queen Annis, Sir Cadogan, Guinevere and Elyan, Leon, Lancelot, Percival and Gwaine, Harry, Ron and Hermione, Freya, and last but not least, Morgana. All were rather surprised by the room's current set up. Arthur smiled happily, his eyes lingering a fraction of a second longer on Guinevere than anyone else.

"My friends, please, join me," he invited.

Everyone shuffled forward and took a seat, eying each other with slight befuddlement. Geraint had moved to a position near the wall but Arthur immediately shook his head, indicating for the servant to sit down next to Leon.

"But – I'm just a servant," Geraint protested.

"I don't care about that in the slightest," Arthur said, smirking at the man, "But, Geraint, do you honestly believe me to be a fool?"

"No, Sire."

"Then we both know that you are anything but a servant."

It had taken a week but after observing the usual comings and goings of servants and nobles, the king had easily distinguished that his 'servant' wasn't who he professed to be.

Geraint desperately looked at Rodor, the older king frowning before letting out a heavy sigh. "It would seem the young Pendragon has discovered our deception. Do as he says, Sir Geraint."

There was a mild gasp from the others but Arthur merely displayed a look of triumph as Geraint sat down. He stared at Arthur in disbelief. "How did you find out?"

Arthur sat in the last vacant chair – between Guinevere and Freya – before answering. "I may have not grown up being waited upon by servants but after being here for a week I could see there was a distinct difference between your behavior and that of the rest of them. It was a combination of several behaviors that betrayed you – though you did play your part rather well."

"A knight pretending to be a servant?" Gwaine grinned. "Must have been difficult."

Geraint blushed, averting his eyes as he quietly admitted, "I have a newfound appreciation for what they do, yes."

There was a soft round of chuckling before Rodor apologized for his subterfuge. "Forgive me, Arthur. I fear I did not trust you at first. I instructed Geraint to survey your actions and report his findings. After his last report – given this morning – I planned to tell you his true identity this evening."

"I'm afraid I spoiled your plans," Arthur smiled, not at all upset over the trickery. "I don't blame you for what you did, Rodor. I probably would have done the same in your shoes. I assume that I passed whatever qualifications you were looking for?"

"Above and beyond," he stated with a grateful smile.

"Excellent; it is important for me know those whom I entrust with portions of the army have all faith in me."

"Excuse me, what?" Elyan blurted.

Arthur grinned at their shocked faces. "My fellow sovereigns have granted me three thousand men and I am not fool enough to believe I can train them all myself. I decided that I would need to divide the army into twelve portions of around two hundred fifty each and delegate a captain to be in charge of each division. Most you see sitting in this circle are whom I have chosen."

"You want us to lead an army?" Hermione asked in shock.

"Not everyone, Hermione," Arthur clarified. "You, Guinevere, Freya, and Morgana will not exactly be partaking in that particular duty."

"Then why are we even here?" Morgana asked, somewhat upset that she was being excluded from such an important assignment.

"Those in this circle are those I trust explicitly," Arthur reiterated. "You and Hermione are going to help Harry and Ron with their portions of the army – seeing as those they will train are the sorcerers in our group. If my calculations are correct, we have about four hundred and seventy three sorcerers. That is a lot of magic being thrust around and I feel Harry and Ron will need sub-captains to help keep everything in order. Guinevere and Freya I am entrusting with the medical preparations, making sure all who fit in that category have all the supplies they need for the casualties that will occur – for there _will_ be casualties."

Morgana's glare had turned into an accepting frown as this information was made known.

"You want me and Harry to lead the sorcerers?" Ron asked in disbelief.

Arthur nodded. "I've watched you and Harry the last few days, Ron, as you trained with them. Your magical power and skill in using it is incredible. I would be a fool not to ask you to lead those with magic."

"He's right," Morgana admitted. "You both possess enough magical skill to be High Priests of the Old Religion – Hermione, too, could be a High Priestess if she wanted to be."

"Really?" Hermione asked, her eyes shining with admiration and slight embarrassment from the praise.

Morgana smirked. "I think you'd even beat Nimueh and that's saying something. Besides me, she's the most powerful High Priestess on the Isle."

"And from what you told me she, along with the others that dwell there, have decided to side with Bane," Arthur interrupted before Hermione could inquire further about Nimueh's specific abilities.

Morgana nodded. "That is one of the reasons Finna and I betrayed them; we don't agree with the world Bane is trying to build."

"What other reasons have you for betraying your own kind?" Sir Cadogan asked curiously.

For the briefest of moments Morgana's eyes flicked in Gwaine's direction before looking elsewhere. "None that I feel the need to share, sir knight," she vaguely answered.

Arthur raised a curious brow and looked between Gwaine and Morgana. The rogue was staring at her with a knowing smirk while the witch looked strained but pleased. Was something going on between those two?

Leon cleared his throat. "So, we are each to lead roughly two hundred men, sire?"

Arthur blinked before refocusing on the present discussion. "Er – right, that is correct, Leon."

The meeting then continued with Arthur explaining exactly what he expected each of them to do in the coming weeks. The three sovereigns were surprised to be included in the ranks of his captains but each happily accepted the task. After discussing the various areas and times of day the captains would train their men, Arthur concluded the meeting by promising that more would follow in the future.

"I will be visiting each division throughout the day to observe and give further instruction as I see fit," he added. "We will start the training schedules tomorrow; Leon, Elyan, and Geraint's groups being the first at dawn on the three respective fields we've decided to use."

"We'll see it done, Arthur," Leon promised.

Nodding to him, Arthur dismissed the war council. Rodor promised to have a new servant picked out for him now that Geraint had been found out. The knight agreed to make introductions by accompanying whoever it would be when they brought his dinner to him later that night. Most of the others promptly left after that but the trio from the future were lingering near the exit along with Guinevere. Hermione, noticing this, grabbed Harry and Ron by the arm and dragged them from the room. Arthur sent her a grateful smile. The second the door shut Arthur closed the distance between him and his fair maiden. She took his hands and smiled warmly up at him, her soft brown eyes sparkling with affection.

"I'm so proud of you, Arthur," she muttered. "You've grown so much in the short time we've been here."

Arthur grinned. "Your encouragement keeps me going, Guinevere."

In the week they had been openly courting, any free time Arthur had he'd spent with Guinevere. They mostly went on leisure walks around the castle, finding quiet places away from prying eyes where they could converse without the fear of being overheard. Arthur had poured out his heart to Guinevere many times and she had done the same to him. She now knew more about his relationship with Merlin than anyone else and supported his personal desires to rescue the warlock more than any other – besides Freya, of course (being Merlin's wife, she was more than supportive of Arthur focusing so much of the training efforts with the rescue in mind).

"I just hope we can prepare everyone in two weeks," he muttered, allowing his concerns to finally show on his face.

Guinevere squeezed his hands. "Merlin is strong. From the brief time I came to know him and everything you've told me, I know he'll hold out until we arrive."

"How is it that you can read me so well?" Arthur wondered.

Guinevere smiled. "It's a gift. Seriously though, Arthur, have more faith not only in Merlin but yourself. In the week we've been here I've seen how the men on that training field have changed. They now look to you as a leader and will follow you no matter where you send them."

"Though that may mostly be the case there are still some who do not support me," Arthur countered.

He was no fool. The whispers and begrudging attitudes he'd encountered in some soldiers, nobles, and even servants may have been subtle but they hadn't escaped his notice.

"Do not allow the doubts of a few to cloud the faith you know many have in you," Guinevere counseled. "You are your own man, Arthur. You have a good heart and everything you have done so far has been for the benefit of the kingdom you wish to build. Be true to your vision, not the misgivings of lesser men. The majority will follow and support such a king."

Reassured, Arthur leaned forward and kissed her brow. "You honor me with your faith, Guinevere. Would you care to join me for dinner?"

The maiden sent him a kind smile and nodded. "Of course."

Arthur happily guided her out of the room, renewed in his belief that what he was doing was right.

[][][]

They came three days before the army was to march on Camelot.

Arthur shouldn't have been surprised but he was left with his jaw dangling in awe just as much as everyone else; it wasn't common to see dragons out of Dragon Country, after all, and in a pack of six no less! Though it had been years since he'd seen them, Arthur recognized every dragon swooping around the castle of Nemeth before they disappeared within the trees surrounding the vast kingdom: Kilgharrah, Nieryn, Ilveri, Auran, Jareyth, and Olivium. Six dragons didn't just dive from the sky like this. Arthur's eyes narrowed.

Calling the men on the training field back to attention he muttered to Leon to continue without him before heading back to the castle with Garrett, his new servant, faithfully trailing behind him. Reaching the armory, Arthur urged Garrett to remove his armor as quickly as possible. Once that was done, he replaced the sword in the stone at his side and told his servant to stay in the castle until he returned.

It was a rather odd sight, seeing a king running at full speed down the corridors, across the stone bridge, and out the open gates leading towards the northern forest. Standard protocol would have been to take a horse but Arthur was still learning how to ride and he didn't want to chance getting lost when he could just use his feet to get where he wanted to go. Besides, he was used to running. He didn't blink as he crossed from stone to natural earth, weaving in between the trees until he drew near to where he suspected the dragons were waiting. It didn't take long to find them; like in the past, whenever he approached their hiding places, every other forest sound disappeared into the void. Arthur stopped, leaning against a large tree to catch his breath.

Now that he was here, he was slightly wary. He hadn't seen these dragons in at least five years. Each had been kind enough in the past but he wasn't sure if they would try to burn him to a crisp for what he'd done to Merlin. Mind, they weren't here alone; dragons only traveled together like this when they were accompanied by their dragonlords. Arthur wasn't at all thrilled reuniting with them either but he believed the dragonlords would calm the dragons enough for him to at least attempt a conversation - because he had to know why they were here - he had to see if his assumption was correct – even if he couldn't fathom why it would be with what had happened between him and Merlin.

Pushing aside his insecurities, Arthur took a deep breath and continued forward to a clearing that he could only assume had been enlarged with magic since it was big enough to comfortably accommodate the large fire-breathing lizards lounging in the grass near their dragonlords. Nieryn was the first to notice his approach. She quietly nudged her mate and the Great Dragon's golden eyes locked on his. Arthur swallowed. Like Merlin, he didn't really like Kilgharrah; the dragon's cryptic riddles had never set well with him.

"I told you he'd come," Nieryn said, alerting the rest to Arthur's presence.

Kilgharrah's golden eyes swirling with anger as fire escaped his nostrils. "The traitor returns."

Arthur winced.

"Peace, Kilgharrah," Balinor commanded, leaving the other dragonlords to meet Arthur halfway across the field.

Kilgharrah wasn't the only dragon staring at Arthur in contempt; besides Nieryn and Olivium, the beasts looked as if the only thing keeping them from roasting him alive was Balinor's silent glare. Arthur swallowed, keeping his head held high despite the guilt that was written plainly on his face. He hadn't seen Balinor or Hunith since he'd banished Merlin from his life. The great dragonlord chieftain had gained several silver hairs amidst his black locks and beard. His dark eyes, while displaying their usual kind depths, also held a hint of sadness foreign to Arthur's memory. A few wrinkles now lingered around his eyes and mouth along with several creases in his forehead.

He stopped a foot away from Arthur, scrutinizing him in silence. The young king stood still, his guilt growing with each passing second. Balinor had been like a second father to him. He knew Arthur almost as well as he knew his own son – which was why Arthur couldn't find the motivation to put up the mask he'd perfected since the tragic day when he'd rejected Merlin. Instead, he let his eyes fill with tears and his shoulders slump. His heart's desire was forgiveness, for Balinor to recognize that the pain he'd probably brought into his son's life was equal to his own.

"I am so sorry," he wept, completely falling apart before the chieftain. He closed his eyes, ashamed.

"Arthur," – the king looked up and Balinor smiled– "you've grown."

And then Arthur was wrapped in his warm embrace, Balinor refusing to let go as the king's body slipped from shock to uncontrolled sobs. Latching onto the dragonlord, Arthur released a dam of regret he'd been holding onto for five miserably long years. Guinevere had been exposed to some of his tears but those moments were nothing compared to this. Arthur hadn't cried like this since the day Sir Ector died. Balinor comforted him until the sobs died down, Arthur's eyes now swollen and his nose rather red.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled again, accepting the handkerchief Balinor magically produced before blowing his nose.

"I know," Balinor muttered, patting his shoulder. "You have suffered just as much as he has these long years. I didn't believe Kilgharrah when he told me who you were but now I can see it. You truly are the other side of the coin."

Arthur shook his head. "I'm not worthy of it. I knew the truth but I never told him."

"You knew? Why didn't you say anything?" Balinor wondered, not mad but simply curious.

Arthur sighed. "After Merlin learned he was Emrys, he told me all about the bond he was supposed to have with the Once and Future King. From the time I was twelve all the way up to the day Sir Ector revealed who I really was, I wished I was royalty so I could be that King. But when I learned the truth that I was royal, I didn't want the responsibility. It terrified me. And then, realizing who I was, I knew I was also the one Merlin had been looking for because I remembered the day we met. Something happened. I can't fully explain it but it was like a powerful force pulled me towards Merlin and I felt the need to be near him. When Merlin described the bond years later, I recognized that was what it was."

"But you didn't want to accept the responsibilities that accompanied the truth," Balinor surmised.

Arthur shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"None of us can choose our Destiny, young Pendragon," Kilgharrah began.

"And none of us can escape it," Nieryn finished with a roll of her eyes. "You've been dying to tell him that for years."

Kilgharrah looked extremely upset that his wife just stole his thunder. "I have and you just ruined it!"

Nieryn winked at Arthur. "I'm sure you'll get over it, dear." –Kilgharrah glared at her but she ignored him completely–"He is right though, Arthur; you can't escape who you are meant to be."

"I know that now," Arthur agreed, "I just refused to acknowledge it after what happened five years ago. I regret everything I said and did and now I'm trying to atone for my mistakes. I take it you're here because you know what happened to Merlin?"

Balinor nodded. "Freya sent me a message. You may have a decent amount of sorcerers fighting on your side but you're going up against a _kingdom_ of sorcerers, Arthur. The odds are not in your favor. After counseling together, we have decided that the dragons should be part of this war. While there are not many of us, we offer our services to you and the kingdom you and Merlin will one day build. I forgive you for your past transgressions. Now, let's rescue my son."

Arthur's eyes were bright as he nodded to the dragonlord chieftain. "Though I feel I still have much to atone for, thank you, Balinor."

"You have our forgiveness as well, Arthur Pendragon," Nieryn stated, smiling down on him with her large purple eyes. She noticed the sword he carried and her grin widened. "I see you found what Merlin left for you."

Arthur glanced down at the sword he'd pulled from the stone and nodded. "Though he was already kidnapped at that point, I felt his magic when I released it from the stone."

"The sun is beginning to shed a new dawn," said Kilgharrah cryptically. "The shadows will flee and the moon will once more feel the sun's rays. There is much to be done, young Pendragon, but Destiny seems to be on your side."

"I have no idea what you even just said," Arthur confessed, slightly annoyed with the dragon's love of riddles. "Regardless, Balinor, you and the others are welcome to the castle. I'm afraid the dragons are going to have to stay here in the forest."

"Afraid we'll eat the men?" asked Auran, his red scales partially glinting in the sunlight as he grinned.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I know you don't eat humans, Auran. It's more of your body mass that won't fit in the castle."

"Not currently but we could change that," Nieryn replied mischievously.

Arthur stared. "Can you change your size too? I thought Merlin was the only one who could do that."

Nieryn pouted. "So he was lying when he said he hadn't figured out the shrinking spell? That no good warlock; he's always pulling my wing."

Kilgharrah chuckled. "I confess I taught him how to do it years ago."

"Kilgharrah!" Nieryn groaned. "Why am I not surprised you were in on his little charade."

Balinor cleared his throat. "If all of you are comfortable changing your size then you must promise to remain small until out in the open forest."

"Though I'm not at all thrilled about being the size of a dog, I would rather remain with Aiden," Ilveri stated, her yellow eyes standing out against her green scales.

"I'd like that too, Ilveri," Aiden, her dragonlord, agreed.

Jareyth, a light blue dragon with silver eyes, wasn't at all happy about shrinking but when he noticed the others were prepared for the change, he didn't want to be left behind. Olivium, sporting a body of purple scales and emerald green irises, was true to Arthur's memory in being the most excited dragon about the change; she'd always been energetic.

Kilgharrah performed the spell, his golden eyes lighting up even more as his pure magic wrapped around his wife and offspring, the dragons shrinking down to being not the size of dogs but cats. Kilgharrah chuckled at how small they were before joining them himself, his vast body being replaced by a smaller but no less intimidating form of his true image. The dragons each flew to their respective dragonlords – all except Nieryn, who decided to settle around Arthur's shoulders instead of joining her mate with Balinor.

"I hope you don't mind," she said.

"Not at all," Arthur said in surprise though he was happy. "I've miss you, Nieryn," he quietly confessed, rubbing her head with two of his fingers.

"As I have missed you, little one," she replied with a smile. "Shall we?"

Arthur nodded before turning on his heel, leading his unexpected allies towards the capital city where he'd have a lot of explaining to do to the other royals and the rest of his captains. He just prayed that King Rodor would be alright with dragons haunting his halls.

[][][]

Merlin had long since adjusted to his prison. His draconic lungs dispelled a large amount of air, stirring the dust that never seemed to leave his alcove. Every day he performed the same routine. He'd wake, fly down to the vast river, bathe himself as best he could, and fly back up to his alcove to partake of the remains of Bane's feasts. The king's soldiers would drop off the carcasses at the cliff's edge every three or four days. There was never much left on the bones but it was food and Merlin wasn't about to refuse it. He was half-starved as it was. Never in his life had he felt so frail.

He knew it wasn't just the poor nutrition he was receiving. Bane's infernal cuff around his leg had to hold some of the strongest magical binding curses Merlin had ever encountered. Not even his draconic teeth could rip the thing off. After cutting up his leg and giving himself an infection, Merlin quickly gave up the idea of trying to remove it with his mouth or claws. Besides, he had a suspicion that even if he chewed his own leg off the cuff would find a way to migrate to one of his remaining limbs. Still, being severed from his magic had drained him just as much as Bane's decision to give him enough food to barely keep him alive.

Merlin had gone to marking the wall of his cave with his claw so he knew he'd been down here for at least three weeks if not more. The only way he could tell the passing of time each day was the dim lighting of the cave changing from the small slivers of sunlight hundreds of feet above him. How Merlin missed the sun! He missed the earth, the dirt, the grass, the wind. He missed his friends, his parents, his wife. He missed Arthur. If he ever got out of here, he was going to talk to him no matter what.

Being stuck here had given Merlin a lot of free time and he'd come up with all sorts of scenarios involving him apologizing to Arthur and explaining his actions all those years ago. He really would have saved Sir Ector but his magic had acted on its own, reaching out to protect Arthur and Arthur alone. Merlin supposed it had just naturally responded to his terror of losing his best friend. He silently confessed, as he watched the rock fall, Arthur's safety had been the only thing on his mind.

Merlin sighed. Even after five years he was still beating himself up over Sir Ector's death.

The sound of footsteps suddenly reached Merlin's keen sense of hearing and he lifted his head in surprise. The guards had been down here yesterday so he knew it couldn't be them. Peering over the alcove to look into the gloom, his eyes slightly stung as a sudden burst of fire illuminated the small entrance to the stairwell.

"Emrys!" Bane bellowed, his eyes searching the inner parts of the cavern as he held his torch aloft. "Emrys, do not deny me! I know you're there."

Merlin wanted to shrink away but knew Bane wouldn't leave until he'd made himself known. Spreading his wings, he leapt from his perch and gently flapped his wings until he landed on the large rock separating him from where Bane stood, the chain attached to his ankle irritating him as it jangled back and forth.

"What do you want?" Merlin asked, unable to hide the bitterness from his tone.

"Is that anyway to greet an old friend?" Bane asked mockingly, observing him. "You seem to be holding up rather well. Tell me, have you tried to change back into a human at all?"

"No," Merlin replied flatly. "I didn't want to risk it – nor have I tried to change my size for the same reason."

"Shame," Bane sighed, disappointed. At Merlin's questioning look, he decided to explain, "The cuff is meant to change with whatever size –or shape– you decide to become – except it also has a side effect that jolts the body with something similar to the Cruciatus Curse."

"The what?" Merlin asked, confused. He'd never heard of such an enchantment.

"It's a delightful spell that leaves the victim believing they're being tortured in the worst possible ways imaginable," Bane said with a wicked glint in his eye. "Don't worry; I only set the spell to last for a few minutes if you ever tried to phase."

"You're a monster," Merlin cried, horrified by the sick pleasure Bane was portraying at the thought of torturing another.

"Call me what you want, Emrys, it makes no difference to me. Now, I wanted you to know that a certain Arthur of Alnwick is on his way here. Do you know him?"

Merlin's heart stopped. "Arthur? He's coming here?"

"Don't look so excited," Bane mocked. "My patrols have informed me that an army is swiftly approaching my borders from the south with Arthur leading the procession. Rumor has it he's on his way to rescue you. Too bad you'll be in no condition to help him when that moment comes."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, the hope in his heart instantly twisting to fear.

Bane sent him another wicked grin. "That cuff has suppressed your magic. Even if you tried to interfere, you would be powerless against enemy spells."

"That's not true," Merlin countered. "Just because I can't use my magic doesn't mean I lack defense and offense. I am currently a dragon after all."

"Indeed you are," Bane observed with a wicked grin, "which makes you powerful and almost unstoppable."

Merlin's breathing became shallow as warning bells sounded in his head. "What are you planning, Bane?"

The king sent him an evil smirk. "Never you mind. One thing you can be certain of; Arthur will fail in his quest. I can't wait to see the light fade from your eyes as you watch everything you care about die in the next few days."

Laughing, Bane left Merlin alone in the dark, the dragon terrified and wishing with all his heart that he could warn Arthur to leave him to his fate. If he came here, Bane would surely kill him! Merlin didn't know how the dollophead had managed to scrape up an army but their efforts wouldn't make a dent in Bane's magical defenses. Even if his magic was chained, Merlin could still feel the presence of magic in the air around him and Camelot was full of it. The kingdom was known for its entire army being nothing but sorcerers. And Arthur wanted to contend against that?

He wasn't worth it!

But he knew Arthur would come anyway. Whether he would because he'd forgiven him or just acting out of duty or because he was being paid, Arthur would always help those who couldn't help themselves. That's just who he was. Merlin didn't know the reason for him coming but, regardless, his stomach was twisting into knots. Filled with fear, he left the rock and flew up to his alcove. There was nothing he could do, being chained as he was. Frustrated and feeling hopeless, he curled into a ball and hid himself under his wing. Part of him prayed Arthur would come. The other wished him to stay as far away from Camelot as possible. If he did come, he would certainly get into trouble and this time there would be no way for Merlin to help him – and that scared the warlock more than anything else.

"Please, Arthur," he whispered in the dark, "take care."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 13

Harry's throat was parched. Walking over to the nearest bucket, he grabbed the community ladle, filled it full, and happily drank. Thanks to Morgana, the water remained cold despite the suppressive heat bearing down on the slightly miserable group. They had stopped to make camp after marching seven hours straight, each captain with their respective division. Though he was separated from Ron and Hermione, Harry had grown to appreciate Morgana's company. She had been invaluable to him these past two weeks.

Shortly after being honored a position as captain, Harry had discovered he was at a huge disadvantage: he hardly knew anything about the Old Religion. Ron had no trouble training his group because Hermione understood the theory and spells; she'd practically bullied both Merlin and Gaius into telling her everything about the Old ways in the future. Harry, however, had no such knowledge. If it hadn't been for Morgana translating his desires into spells the sorcerers could understand, Harry would have gone to Arthur and asked him to reassign the captaincy to someone else.

The sorcerers had all been highly intrigued when Harry, Ron, and Hermione first performed magic in a tactical setting. It was clear they were incredibly strong but their strange incantations and lack of golden eyes inspired several inquiries. Morgana had stated that not all magic was the same and that the trio came from a foreign land where magic was practiced differently. When some sorcerers tried and failed to use a few of the Latin-based spells from the future, Harry assured them that he couldn't use their incantations either – proving so with a demonstration.

This display caused many to doubt that Harry and Ron could lead them but, when both began to direct their troops, opinions changed because Harry was a master when it came to teaching people how to fight with magic and Ron -being the best chess player Harry had ever seen besides Arthur- was perfect in strategic maneuvering. Harry had earned his division's respect similarly to how Arthur had when he'd first challenged the ragtag knights of Caerleon, Nemeth, and Gawant. Several sorcerers tried and failed to beat him, shocked with how powerful he actually was. The Expelliarmus spell, in particular, proved to be highly useful since it not only blasted a person ten feet in the air but knocked them out cold for the remainder of the day. Harry was looking forward to using it the most since it proved to be the least damaging but most effective of his defensive spells.

After taking another swig of water, Harry wiped his mouth and looked out at his division with a fond smile. He was quite proud of them. They kind of reminded him of the D.A. though he didn't know them as well as his old classmates. Men and women both took advantage of the break they'd been given, resting on the ground and idly using their magic to stir up the leaves and twigs that had previously been littered throughout the grass.

Though Arthur had refused to have women fight in the muggle portions of the army (besides Queen Annis because of her station) he did allow witches in the magical ranks. This was because when he'd brought his concerns to the war council, Morgana, Freya, and Hermione had nearly spit fire, saying magic wasn't like brainless muscle and that he would be a fool to refuse the women's help. Arthur backed off, apologizing and dropping his concerns at once under their ruthless glares. Women were not to be questioned in matters such as this; Harry had learned that many times in his past rows with Ginny.

"How are you holding up?"

Harry smiled as he turned to Morgana. The former High Priestess had ditched her usual embroidered dresses for a green tunic, a light set of plaited female armor, and a pair of brown breeches. Her long black hair was pulled into an intricate braid, falling casually over one shoulder.

"Besides thirsty, I'm fine," Harry answered. "You?"

Morgana shrugged. "Sweating like a pig; the same as everyone else. Honestly, if Arthur keeps driving us like this then we're going to be completely useless by the time we reach Camelot's walls."

"I think he'll slow down once we get closer to the border."

Morgana scowled. "I hope so – for the soldiers' sake, if nothing else."

Harry grinned. "You're not including yourself in that?"

"I'm stronger than I look and you know it," she playfully bantered, lightly shoving him.

Harry chuckled. Just then, one of the dragons flew overhead – Auran if Harry remembered right. He still couldn't believe that six dragons and dragonlords – _including Merlin's father!_ – had decided to join in the cause of restoring Camelot's rightful king and freeing Emrys. It made sense that they would want to rescue one of their own but it was still shocking nonetheless.

Harry had spent time with both Aithusa and Altiore in the future but never had he been in the company of so many dragons that could talk. Not to mention finally meeting the famous Kilgharrah; Merlin and Arthur were right, he spoke in nothing but riddles. The first time Harry had met him, the dragon's eyes had sparked with intelligence and Harry somehow knew that Kilgharrah knew they were from the future. His mate, Nieryn, also seemed to know; the glint in her purple eyes had been the same as his. Neither dragon had openly acknowledged the fact but Harry was certain his suspicions were correct – especially when they both addressed him as the Chosen One.

"Looks like he's heading this way," Morgana muttered, seeing where Harry was looking.

Harry realized she was right; Auran had circled twice before flying straight towards them. Still the size of a cat – all the dragons were to stay that way until they reached Camelot – the red fire-breathing lizard landed in front of Harry and scowled.

"You know how annoying it is, having to look up to address you?" he groused.

Morgana and Harry shared a smirk before stooping down into a crouch.

"Does this make you feel better?" Morgana asked while rubbing her finger under his snout.

Auran unsuccessfully tried to rip off said finger with his rather alarming teeth. "Witch, don't mock me!" he snarled, a small amount of fire escaping his nostrils.

Morgana wasn't the least bit threatened. "What news do you bring then?"

"Arthur is having the army settle here for the night," he answered, digging his claws unconsciously into the ground. "He has also called a war council to convene in twenty minutes. Both of you are to attend."

"We'll be there," Harry promised. "Thanks for bringing the message."

"Hmph, at least one of you is polite," the dragon grumbled before leaping into the air, his wings beating rapidly to gain altitude.

After conveying the message to his division and leaving Alator -a great sorcerer and friend- in charge, Harry and Morgana left the others to head up front to where Arthur would be found. As they passed the other kings and Queen Annis's divisions, Harry could see their tents being erected by servants in the colors and banners that supported each of their houses. When they reached the front of the army, it was to find a large red tent had been set up and a flag displaying a golden dragon with spread wings and a curved head flapping in the late afternoon breeze. This was the first time Harry had seen the Pendragon crest since arriving in the past and the symbol sparked a feeling of both comfort and hope within his breast.

The tent's flaps were open, a large pole separating the two entrances. Morgana and Harry both entered and looked around. The inside was split into two separate areas by a thick sheet. From a small opening in the divider, Harry could make out an actual bed; perks for being royalty, he supposed. The other half of the tent contained a large desk covered in maps, a handsome wooden chair, several tapestries depicting the Camelot crest, a rack with various weapons, a mannequin supporting Arthur's armor, and half a dozen candelabras currently burning large white candles.

Arthur himself sat at the desk pouring over a map while surrounded by the other kings and Queen Annis. Chief Balinor sat on the ground near the tent wall with Kilgharrah beside of him. Leon, Elyan, Percival, and Gwaine were also located there, each watching the royals converse in silence. Harry and Morgana walked around the tent's edge to sit down next to Gwaine, the rogue sending the priestess his largest grin.

"Survived the march, then?" he asked.

"I'm not a damsel in distress, Gwaine. I can walk many leagues without tiring."

Harry was the opposite, thinking of all the blisters that had formed on his feet during the trek. He would have to be sure to heal them before the battle started so he wouldn't be distracted by the nuisances. As they sat there and made small talk, the other captains slowly trickled in. Sir Cadogan and Ron and Hermione were the last, their divisions making up the back of the army. Seeing that everyone had arrived, Arthur concluded his whispered conversation with the queen and kings before greeting his captains and sitting down next to Gwen in the circle they had unconsciously formed on the floor. The other royals seemed a little upset to be sitting in the dirt but they followed Arthur's example; Harry couldn't help but grin over their reluctance though. Arthur asked for a report on how each division was fairing before getting into the heart of the meeting.

"If we keep our current pace we should reach Camelot in four days," he revealed.

"Do you think it wise to drive the men so quickly?" asked Freya.

"That's what I wanted to discuss," Arthur sighed. "We don't want to tire them but we also don't want to give Bane more time to gather his forces than we already have. Our scouts reported three days ago that they saw several of Bane's men retreating to the north. If on horseback, they would have already reached Camelot by now and warned Bane of our coming. If we march as we have, our enemy will only have four more days to gather his forces."

"But it will also cripple us," Morgana stated. "Believe me, Arthur, you do not want your men at half strength when going up against an army of sorcerers. While your two magical divisions make your three thousand army equivelant to at least six thousand in strength, it will feel like we're fighting ten thousand men against Bane's seven thousand strong."

"Do not discount us, witch," Kilgharrah voiced. "The might and magic of dragons is never to be underestimated."

"While I acknowledge this, Kilgharrah, I do not want to become complacent," Arthur replied. "We don't know what Bane is fully capable of because none have dared challenge him since he conquered Camelot."

"Determination, strategy, and strength bring success," Harry opined. "I think that hastening into enemy territory wouldn't be in our best interest. I've learned from past experience that rushing in while only partially prepared leads to casualties that could have been avoided." He briefly paused, remembering the follies of his fifth year which led to Sirius's death. "Even if we slow the pace, it would work in our eventual favor."

Ron and Hermione sent him a sympathetic glance, both remembering their time at the Ministry all those years ago. While several voiced their agreement with Harry's advice, Arthur leaned forward with a conflicted countenance. Everyone in the circle knew why he was hesitating. Gwen placed a comforting hand over his. The king looked at her, unable and unwilling to hide his emotions.

"We're getting so close," he whispered, his voice carrying in the silence.

"I want Merlin back just as much as you do, Arthur," Balinor stated, drawing the king's eye. "And while it hurts me to say this, I believe that Harry makes a fair point. Our forces need to be able and ready to face whatever threat Bane decides to throw at us. If this means my son's captivity is extended a few more days then I'm willing to take that risk. I'd rather be successful in this venture than fail and have to try again."

Arthur sighed. "You're right, of course. You all are. I apologize."

"It can be hard to command when personal feelings linger in the heart," Queen Annis consoled. "We do not hold anything against you, Arthur."

"Thank you." Arthur then contemplated a moment before coming to a decision. "We'll aim for reaching Camelot a week from now. Bane's lands are infested with bandits and sorcerers alike. Taking that into account, I feel it unwise to send out our usual scouts once we cross the border. Balinor, Kilgharrah, could I request the dragons to scout ahead from now on? I know they have the capability of cloaking themselves from unwanted eyes and it would be a huge advantage to see things from above than the ground."

Balinor and Kilgharrah shared a nod before the former replied, "I'm sure we can make the arrangements, Arthur."

"Good, let me know as soon as possible if the other dragons are in agreement." Arthur then looked compassionately around at the gathered group. "I want to thank each of you for the hard work you have displayed these past two weeks. I feel we have come far and have the capacity to defeat this enemy. We may be fewer in number but I know that success is not won by strength alone. If we continue to paint the image of a united land for our families, our rights, and our freedom, that is what will come to mind when our men and women face adversity. Continue to inspire them as you already have and I believe nothing will hinder our cause."

"We'll follow you to the end if you keep making speeches like that, princess," said Gwaine, eliciting a laugh from everyone even though they all agreed.

Harry smiled; if there was one thing Arthur was good at, it was motivating others. The king then dismissed them, and Harry and Morgana left the tent with Ron and Hermione, the four making their way back to their divisions where hot meals were sure to be waiting.

"Do you think we'll stand a chance?" Ron asked Morgana as they walked.

The priestess sighed. "My visions are dark. No matter how many times I try to concentrate, the future is cast in shadow. Before you arrived, I saw Arthur reigning upon his throne but that vision vanished when Merlin was captured."

"Are you saying that Merlin's kidnapping may have changed the future entirely?" asked Hermione.

Morgana shook her head. "I can't answer that, Hermione. The future is never set in stone. You, of all people, should know this."

"I thought you didn't believe in visions anyway," Ron teased, poking his wife in the arm.

Hermione lightly shoved him. "As far as we know Trelawney only gave two real predictions while the rest of them were utter hogwash. I trust Morgana because she's an actual seer, Ronald."

Harry bid goodbye to his best friends once reaching his division. Hermione gave him a large hug while Ron shook his hand before the two wandered off. Joining Morgana in the middle of the camp, a large bowl of soup was handed to him by one of the servants of Nemeth. After thanking her, he walked over to a spot of grass and sat down next to the priestess. They ate in subdued silence, Morgana probably thinking of her dark visions while Harry wondered just what would be the outcome of this battle.

After a while, Morgana sighed. "It'll be alright, Harry. I might not be able to see anything now but I have faith in the things I _have_ seen. Albion's future was bright in those visions as was your future."

Harry let out a sad chuckle. "My life hasn't been exactly bright, Morgana. Even if it's better than it was, what waits for me in the current future isn't what I really want."

Morgana set aside her now empty bowl. "You know, my life was pretty much planned out for me before I threw it all away."

Harry looked over at her. "Really?"

In the two weeks they'd spent together in this particular timeline, Morgana had never opened up about her past. Harry found himself unconsciously leaning closer.

The priestess smirked at his curiosity. "Alright, I suppose I'll finally share my story – but don't you dare repeat it to anyone or else I'll turn you into a pig and leave you for the cooks to find."

Harry swallowed. "My lips are sealed," he promised.

"Good." She then let out a heavy sigh and began her tale. "I was close to being one year old when Bane attacked Camelot. He found me hiding in one of the rooms. My mother had stashed me in there – I later learned she died during the attack. Anyway, Bane, realizing that I had magic, took me to the Isle of the Blessed where I was reunited with my sister, Morgause, and taught the ways of the Old Religion. Bane would visit me quite often and over the years I grew to love him like a father. He always seemed to care about me."

"I didn't know you two were so close," Harry muttered, surprised.

Morgana's smile was a sad one as she sighed, "Nobody would, at this point. You see, as I grew older, my visions became more vivid and detailed. I saw Bane torturing families, forcing sorcerers to do his bidding, and murdering nonmagical folk in Camelot's square. I would have tried to stop these events but I was terrified to go against him. Everyone else on the Isle seemed to support his decisions, especially Nimueh and Morgause. I thought I was entirely alone until one day, Finna, who had been assigned to attend to me since I was a child, told me her true feelings. She disagreed with everything Bane had done. She had been in love with a normal man, a Camelot knight, and he'd died by Bane's hand the night he claimed Camelot. After that the two of us banded together and I never trusted Bane again.

"In time I became a High Priestess and one of the greatest seers in the five kingdoms. My visions began to change from Bane's tyranny to a land united under one rule. I still remember the first time I saw Arthur," she smiled, "he was so confident, Harry. He ruled his people with kindness and equality. I saw Emrys standing on his right with Guinevere happily crowned as queen on his left. I saw our other friends -the mercenaries, Elyan, and Leon- all clothed in Camelot's colors. I saw the land of Albion, where all people went about their business with smiles and laughter, magic openly accepted and loved on the streets. And most importantly I saw myself with – never mind, that's not important. Anyway, the point is I wanted that future to become a reality so badly that I started receiving other visions which turned out to be exact instructions of how to make it happen.

"So I sought out Annis, Rodor, and Godwyn because I knew from my visions that they would be the most supportive allies. All three were reluctant at first to help but after some heavy persuasion they agreed to gather a taskforce in Nemeth if I promised to bring them Arthur. I would have done so straight away but the Old Religion made me wait. I later saw a vision of Emrys being captured by Bane and my heart ached that the man I used to love like a father would do such a thing. Accompanying this vision was your arrival and the need to bring you to the Valley of the Fallen Kings with the mercenaries help. I had Finna find them and then sent them to you.

"After that, I scried Emrys's location and found him chained in Bane's clutches. In that moment I felt it was time to openly confront my sister and Nimueh, to betray them for the greater good. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Once I found them, I openly denounced Bane, stating I would not support him if he decided to wage war with the true king of Camelot. My sister tried to persuade me to change my mind – her disappointment honestly haunts me still– but I couldn't stand by and let Bane destroy the future I wanted.

"Nimueh was the first to attack me, calling me traitor. Finna joined the fray and eventually we managed to escape from the Isle. Truthfully both of us barely made it out of there alive. With the last of my strength I transported us to Nemeth where Sir Cadogan and several healers nursed us back to health. Then, when I was well enough, I had another vision of Arthur arriving at the Valley of the Fallen Kings. I sought him out and you know the rest."

Harry sat there, stunned. Morgana's visions had ultimately led to all of this happening. If she hadn't acted on them, none of them would be here right now. Harry, Ron, and Hermione would have been sold as slaves to some unknown noble in Deorham while Gwaine, Percival, and Lancelot would have been put to death in Caerleon – and Arthur probably would have tried to go after Merlin alone only to be murdered by Bane in the attempt. Overcome with gratitude, Harry thanked every star above that this hadn't been the case. If Morgana hadn't betrayed the only family she'd ever known, everyone's lives would have been very different than they currently were.

Harry placed a hand on her forearm, his eyes filled with both gratitude and sympathy. "It must not have been easy, betraying people you've considered your family."

Morgana's eyes filled with tears but none of them fell. "It was," she admitted, "but what I gained is greater than what I lost."

Harry had a pretty good idea what Morgana was talking about. Sure, by helping them she could live in a world where Albion thrived, but what the priestess really gained from all of this was a certain mercenary. Harry hadn't missed the near slip-up in her tale.

"I suppose you're talking about Gwaine?" he slyly asked.

Morgana looked shocked as she whipped around to fully face him. "How did you – you don't have the gift of sight, do you?"

Harry chuckled. "No but I am observant. You're really subtle about it but I can tell. Is he the real motivation behind everything you've done?"

Morgana inwardly began to struggle, the wheels of her mind clearly debating her options. In the end, she settled on telling the truth as Harry suspected she would. Letting out a sigh, her outer defenses crumbled and she grabbed her hair, pulling unconsciously on her braid.

"The vision came right after I saw Arthur and the glory of Albion," she muttered, her voice soft, holding a hint of both tenderness and longing. "I saw myself, Harry, holding a child with brown hair and green eyes. The little boy was probably around the age of three. I watched as I let him run into the arms of a knight wearing Camelot's colors. As he twirled my son around, I realized it was Gwaine. He set our son down and then came over and kissed me.

"When the vision closed, my heart nearly broke because reality set in. I knew that vision could only come to pass under Arthur's rule and that my current future would not have that outcome if I didn't act. So yes, you could say he is my motivation; he and the child we will one day have together. I never thought I would be a mother but that little boy – I love him, Harry, and I haven't even held him in my arms. One thing I know for sure is that I want him and Gwaine in my life more than anything else and I will do whatever I have to, to make that vision a reality."

Harry was smiling, warmth traveling through his veins as he watched Morgana's passion and love for her future husband radiate through her green eyes. Putting a supportive hand on the witch's shoulder, he muttered, "Thank you for telling me this, Morgana. I promise I'll keep it to myself. I am curious about something though."

"What?"

"Does Gwaine know?"

Morgana blushed. Averting her gaze, she mumbled, "I might have told him in a moment of weakness."

Harry laughed. "He does have a way of naturally wiggling things out of people."

"One of his unfortunate talents," Morgana agreed disdainfully, shaking her head. "He promised not to say anything to anyone else."

"When did you tell him?"

"The night before we left Nemeth," she confessed. "I wanted him to know exactly how I feel, in case he needed motivation to not give up while on the battlefield."

"And he shared the same feelings?"

"He doesn't feel obligated to feel that way because of the vision if that's what you're asking," Morgana snapped.

"That's not what I meant!" Harry backtracked. "I just wanted to know if I could openly offer congratulations."

"You're not going to tell him that you know!" Morgana cried, horrified.

Harry frowned. "You want to keep the two of you a secret? Why? We're marching off to war where there's a possibility of losing the people we care about the most. Why not let others see that love can blossom even when death draws near?"

Morgana stared at him. "Something tells me you have experience with this."

"A little," Harry hedged. "Let's just say that in the future I was involved in a battle where it was rather comforting to express my love openly for Ginny in the midst of all the chaos. It strengthened me to do what I had to do, knowing I was fighting for a future that I wanted to have with her."

Morgana sat there for a moment, contemplating his words. Finally, she muttered, "I'll consider it. We should get some sleep, Harry. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Harry hadn't realized that most in their company had already retired for the night, kipping down on their bedrolls under scratchy blankets. Sighing, the Auror stood and sought out his own bedroll, bidding Morgana goodnight before settling on a soft patch of ground. After removing a rock from his side, Harry was finally able to find a comfortable position in order to sleep.

Somewhere to his left, Morgana quietly called, "Harry?"

Harry turned over. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for listening."

He smiled. "You're welcome."

Removing his glasses, he returned to his former position and fell asleep.

[][][]

A week later, Harry and Morgana were once again summoned with the other captains to Arthur's tent. The army had settled in the Forest of Brechfa just outside the city of Camelot, having arrived there in the early hours of the morning. After getting some sleep, Arthur called his war council together in the late afternoon. Here they ate a large meal before settling down to discuss their ultimate plan of attack. A large map outlining the city of Camelot was spread out on the table, everyone surrounding it as Arthur pointed at various places.

"Thanks to Morgana, we know the exact location of the best passages into the citadel," he looked up and nodded to her in thanks.

Morgana smiled as Gwaine openly kissed her on the cheek; the two of them had decided to reveal their feelings last night, the mercenary having shared a rather heated kiss with the priestess right after dinner in front of all their friends. Harry had worn the biggest grin and it wasn't until Morgana threatened to once more turn him into a pig that he schooled his features.

"Is there a particular passage you want to focus on overtaking, Sire?" asked Lancelot.

"The siege tunnels, to be precise," Arthur answered. "But in order to get to them, we'll first have to break through the protective shields over the city."

"I don't know if we'll be able to destroy them all," Harry said while Ron and Hermione nodded in concern. "It takes a lot of offensive magic to break a shield charm, especially a powerful one."

Kilgharrah spoke up from Balinor's shoulder, "Shield charms are no match for dragon fire. We will gladly destroy them if it suits you, Arthur."

Arthur grinned and nodded. "Very well; once you do, we'll focus on breaking through the front gate."

Everyone stared.

"Um… the _front_ gate? Arthur, are you sure?" Gwen asked.

Arthur shrugged. "It doesn't really matter where we strike first. Bane won't be expecting his shields to break so utterly – and if we have the sorcerers create an illusion of our army scattered around the outer wall, we'll have the element of surprise on our hands."

"And by going through the main gate, we'll have greater access to routes that will take us throughout the city," Queen Annis realized, seeing Arthur's strategy.

"Exactly," Arthur grinned.

"Alright, let's say we get into the front gate, then what?" asked Percival.

"We'll divide into groups. This is where things get a little tricky. Harry, Ron, I'm afraid I'm going to have to scatter your divisions throughout the rest of the army."

"What?" Harry cried while Ron demanded, "Why?"

"Because we can't have our men going up against squadrons of sorcerers unarmed," Arthur answered. "I only kept the sorcerers separated for training because magical combat is different than physical. But the purpose behind _why_ they were training is the same as the others so they should have no qualms fighting alongside those without magic. I will leave it to you to disburse your men right after this meeting but I want you to place an equal amount of power in each remaining division."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Harry asked a little bitterly. He felt like he'd just been demoted.

Arthur smiled. "I want you to join with one of the other captains. Morgana will go with Gwaine – unless that's going to be a problem due to certain developments?"

"It won't be, Arthur," Gwaine solemnly assured while Morgana nodded with equal soberness.

"Good," the king praised. "Hermione, you'll pair up with Leon, Ron with Elyan, and Harry, you'll be with me."

Harry's jaw dropped. "What?"

Arthur raised a single golden eyebrow. "Unless you feel I should assign you elsewhere?"

"No, no, of course not," Harry stuttered. "I'll gladly go with you."

Arthur nodded his approval before moving on to battle tactics.

"Right, Harry and I will work towards attaining the citadel by going through the siege tunnels. Now, they're sure to be heavily guarded. To get to them we'll need the rest of the army to cause enough chaos to disburse the soldiers. Rodor and Godwyn, your forces will charge down the center towards the main square. Percival and Gwaine, you will lead your men towards the South Gate and take over that part of the city. Cadogan and Elyan will take the West Gate and its surrounding area, Annis and Leon the East, while Geraint and Lancelot will focus on the Lower Town."

"Won't having all our forces spread so thin leave us vulnerable?" asked Annis in concern.

Arthur smirked. "Normally I would be concerned but I'm assigning a dragon and its dragonlord to each group."

"That would even the odds," Morgana realized, her eyes widening with surprise.

Arthur snorted. "Don't sound so shocked, Morgana. I've given this a lot of thought."

"But the dragons will not fit within the city walls," Sir Cadogan argued. "And their dragon fire could injure our men as well as the enemy in such confined spaces."

"The dragons can change their size at will, correct?" Arthur asked, addressing both Kilgharrah and Balinor.

"Not currently but Kilgharrah can pass his knowledge of the spell to his children," Balinor stated. "Once they know it, they will be able to change according to their own volition."

"But doesn't it take time to learn enchantments?" asked Geraint in concern.

"Dragons are not humans, sir knight," answered Kilgharrah. "We are creatures of magic. We do not need to study it to understand how to tap into its power."

"Right then; Kilgharrah, teach the others that spell as soon as this meeting is over," said Arthur, once more taking command. "The dragons and their respective lords are assigned as follows: Kilgharrah and Balinor will accompany Rodor and Godwyn, Auran and Horace with Percival and Gwaine, Jareyth and Juliana with Annis and Leon, Ilveri and Aiden with Cadogan and Elyan, Olivium and Ariana with Geraint and Lancelot, which leaves Nieryn to come with Harry and me. After this meeting is over -and the dragons know the spell to change their size at will- I want each dragonlord and dragon to find their respective captains and remain with them for the duration of this war."

"We'll see that it's done, Arthur," Balinor agreed while Kilgharrah nodded.

"Good," Arthur muttered, threading his fingers and resting them against his lips. After silently contemplating over something he finally voiced his thoughts. "I'm concerned about our men's lives. There are always casualties in war. Therefore, before any blood is spilt, I feel that we should send a messenger to Bane requesting him to surrender to us peacefully and return Merlin into our custody. If he refuses to do so then we will do battle." He looked to the other sovereigns. "Do you feel this is appropriate? These are your men that will be laying down their lives."

"If there is any way to spare them, then I say we take it," said Queen Annis at once while King Rodor nodded.

"Though I don't think it will do any good, we can at least try," Lord Godwyn agreed.

"Very well," Arthur sighed. "I'll send the messenger with the understanding that we'll receive Bane's answer at dawn. Have the men take an early rest. We'll need to be at full strength for what is to come."

Sensing that the council was adjourned, everyone made their way towards the exit. Harry and Ron spent the majority of the rest of the day dividing the rest of the sorcerers amidst the other ranks of soldiers. It was surprising that none of the sorcerers argued with Arthur's decision. Each of them accepted their fate and even agreed with the king's logic. Harry was grateful for this; he really didn't want to have to solve any disputes on the eve of battle. After he and Ron finished their tasks – with a lot of help from Hermione and Morgana – the trio decided to have dinner together; Morgana wandered off to find Gwaine.

Getting a helping of soup and a small roll of bread, Harry led Ron and Hermione to a somewhat secluded spot by the base of a tree. Hermione performed the Muffliato charm just in case and the three of them ate their soup while contemplating everything that was about to happen.

"Do you really think assigning a dragon to each group will be enough to even the odds?" asked Ron around a mouthful of bread.

"If they were like the dragons that we know then I would definitely have my doubts but these are Old dragons, Ron," said Hermione. "You've seen how powerful Altiore and Aithusa can be in battle. During the Battle of Hogwarts they made the other dragons efforts against the giants look like a joke. I have all faith that these Old dragons are going to be our ace in this war."

"I just can't believe we're actually here at all," Harry said as he finished his soup. "I mean, we're about to take over Camelot which eventually becomes Hogwarts."

"Right," Ron gasped in realization. "How much of it do you think we'll recognize?"

Hermione frowned. "Merlin and Arthur both said the Founders changed the original castle so much that it was hardly recognizable. But the Great Hall used to be the Throne Room so we should be able to identify that."

"That's only if the place is still standing after this," Harry sighed. "Mordred really screwed up the past. Who knows if Camelot will even become Hogwarts in the future at this point?"

"It'll be our job to make sure it does," said Hermione fiercely.

Ron smiled. "Feels like old times, doesn't it? Fighting against evil, saving people, defending the castle…"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "except this time we didn't come up with the plan. If we had, the whole thing would have been a half-baked disaster."

The three shared a round of laughter, remembering how many times this statement had come true for their previous schemes.

"Although Arthur's plan is a good one, anything can happen," Hermione reminded once they'd settled down. "We need to be on our guard."

Ron nodded. "Right, let's make a pact: no dying on each other while we're in the past. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Harry and Hermione said together with a smile.

It wasn't that long before the three of them parted ways, each going off to find who Arthur had assigned them to. Harry wound his way up to the front where Arthur's tent stood. He would have entered but murmured voices from within made him pause. Harry peeked through a small gap between the tent's double entrance but hastily pulled back when he realized the other person in Arthur's tent was none other than Guinevere. The last thing he wanted was to interrupt _that_ so he settled around the nearest unoccupied campfire to wait. He hadn't been there for long before he was joined by Nieryn.

"Hello, Chosen One," she greeted, her small cat-sized form settling on the log beside him. "You don't mind if I join you? The tent seems to be occupied at the moment."

Harry grinned at her comment. "I don't mind, no."

The silver dragon rocked back and forth on her haunches before letting out a heavy sigh. "How are you feeling concerning the battle, Harry?"

He shrugged. "Nervous, to be honest, but that's because I've never fought in a war like this before. I've only been in magical duels."

"I see," she said, peering up at him through her purple eyes. "Swords are no longer used where you come from."

Harry looked around before whispering the Muffliato charm.

"Hmmm, handy," the dragon commented as she felt the magic work.

"Thanks. So, how did you know?"

"Dragons have the ability to see visions, you know," she smiled. "Though I can't see everything, I was given a glimpse of your future. It seems rather dark and dismal. It took a great amount of energy for me to even feel the magic of the earth."

Harry nodded sadly. "Merlin says it's because men haven't taken care of it, allowing it to become polluted."

"How very sad," Nieryn mourned.

"I didn't realize how much of a difference it made," Harry honestly replied, "until Merlin sent us here. I never thought magic could be this potent and alive. It's incredible."

The dragon smiled. "There is nothing like it. Now, though I want to hear more about your future, the Old Religion won't allow it. Although, I am permitted to ask if Merlin is well in your time."

Harry frowned before deciding to answer her based off the timeline he was originally from. A smile came across his face as he thought of Merlin, Freya, and their daughter Oriana. "He's happier than I have ever seen him," he answered honestly.

Nieryn sighed in relief. "That is good," she murmured, "that is very good. I'm glad. He's suffered so much for so long. I fear for him."

"We'll get him back," Harry assured, patting the dragon's head as she laid it in his lap. "I know we will."

[][][]

Meanwhile, in Arthur's tent, the king had just finished having a nice meal with Guinevere, the two finally being able to have a moment to themselves; they hadn't been able to be alone for most of the march towards Camelot.

Arthur had decided for them to have a picnic dinner, laying a blanket on the floor with an assortment of pillows amidst a small spread of food. He and Guinevere lay side by side, both incredibly comfortable around the other, the food now gone.

"What are you thinking about?" Guinevere asked as she gently stroked Arthur's blonde hair away from his forehead.

Small tingles of pleasure rippled down Arthur's limbs as he contemplated her question. "There's a lot on my mind," he finally answered. "But I suppose I'm mostly worried I'll fail."

Guinevere leaned over him, gaining his full attention. "I don't think you'll allow that to happen. You are fighting for Merlin, after all."

Arthur smiled. "You're right." The smile faded. "I can't believe he's just on the other side of this forest, Guinevere. He was kidnapped over a month ago. I can't help but wonder if we're already too late."

"What does your heart tell you?"

Arthur thought for a moment. "That Merlin's alive."

"Then trust that he will remain so," she advised. "Worry is not a wise counsel, especially on the eve of battle. You will succeed and you will become the King I know you to be."

Arthur's smile returned. Staring into her brown eyes, he saw the conviction, faith, and love he'd always longed for in a companion. A familiar stirring below his navel began to shoot suggestive messages to his brain. Arthur hesitantly raised his hand, his fingers slipping through Guinevere's curls to rest against the side of her neck. Unconsciously they drew closer together and soon they were beyond the safety of propriety, their lips inches apart. Arthur smiled lovingly before closing the distance, securing his lips against hers. Guinevere's hands immediately laced around his shoulders, responding to his actions as their lips chastely moved across each other. The two drew apart, Arthur's whole world brighter than it had been seconds before.

 _Wow._

He'd kissed women before but what he had just received was ten times better than _anything_ he'd ever experienced. The gesture hadn't even been all that passionate but it had left his whole body longing for more. Arthur's heart pounded within his chest and his eyes lingered over Guinevere's thick lips. The maiden stared at him with excitement and longing. Within seconds they were wrapped up in each other's embrace. Guinevere surprised him by pushing him back into the gathered pillows, her upper body coming to rest on his chest, exciting him further. Arthur's hands wanted to go everywhere. They explored the curls of her hair before trailing down her back and up her sides. He almost continued further in his upward vigil but moral standards stopped him from doing so. Instead he settled for wrapping his arms around her and pressing her body further against his while his lips continued to acquaint themselves with hers.

Gracious, she was sensational!

Arthur inwardly groaned as he once again denied himself from advancing further than he already had. It was so hard though since Guinevere's hands kept climbing through his hair and down his chest, each repeated movement taunting the needs he so desperately wanted to satisfy. Overcome, Arthur's lips moved away from hers, gracing her cheek, her jaw, her ear, and finally her neck. Guinevere gasped, the sound exciting the king even more and he lingered near her neck a second longer before she gently angled his head upward so she could kiss him again. Arthur's body burned with desire and he was nearly at his wit's end when Guinevere finally broke away, shoving herself back but keeping her hands on his shoulders. Both were panting heavily, trying to calm their racing hearts while denying their natural inclinations.

"I think it would best for me to retire," Guinevere suggested.

Though disappointed, Arthur was pleased to hear the reluctance in her tone. "Don't take offense, but I agree," he said. "If you don't, I fear I might not let you leave."

Guinevere smiled and propelled herself to her feet, Arthur unwillingly joining her. Walking her to the tent's entrance, he pulled her close and planted a soft kiss on her lips and then her forehead.

"Goodnight, my queen," he whispered.

Guinevere's cheeks darkened as she sheepishly looked at the floor. "Arthur, I'm a blacksmith's daughter; hardly a royal in any standard and most certainly not a queen."

"You are to me," Arthur murmured, holding her chin gently between his curled finger and thumb. "You always have been and you always will be. I love you, Guinevere. I know it's only been a few short weeks but it's the truth. I love you and I will never love another."

Her eyes began to sparkle with unshed tears and a smile as radiant as the sun lit her face. "I love you too. I don't know what I'd do without you now that I've found you, Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur grinned, butterflies erupting in his stomach. She loved him! She really loved him! He leaned in and kissed her again.

"I promise, when this is over, I will return for you."

Guinevere smiled, the pad of her thumb gently stroking his cheek. "I know you will. Goodnight, my king."

She then kissed his cheek and left the tent. Arthur wandered over to his bed in a daze, flopping down on the soft mattress and reliving in his mind the reality that had just taken place. He was in this stupor for quite some time, only coming out of it when Harry and Nieryn arrived, inquiring where it was they were to sleep. After handing them off to a guard with the instructions to find them a tent near his own, Arthur returned to the back of his temporary quarters. Stripping down to his trousers, he fell into bed. The ghost of Guinevere's lips lingered on his own as did her whisper in his ear proclaiming her love for him. Arthur smiled widely as he closed his eyes and dreamed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Alright folks, here it is! The epic battle for Camelot! No, this is not the last chapter but we are getting close. Please leave a review and I hope you enjoy what I've come up with. Thank you all so much for reviewing previous chapters. You know who you are. :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter or the dialogue I used from any Merlin episodes.**

* * *

Chapter 14

Arthur woke before dawn, Garrett softly shaking his shoulder.

"My lord," he muttered, "it's time."

Arthur blinked the sleep from his eyes, rising from his bed. "Thank you."

Garrett proceeded to help Arthur get dressed in his armor; the king refused to let him help with the other garments – he was perfectly capable of getting into a tunic and trousers on his own, thank you very much! The chainmail and armor he wore were quite heavy but Arthur had been practicing in them for a full two weeks before making this venture. Both were made with the utmost care by Nemeth's royal blacksmith, Elyan, and Guinevere. Arthur was rather touched the latter had taken her time to help make the armor that was to protect him on the battlefield; it made her feel close even though she wasn't going to be there.

Garrett finished the outfit by dawning Arthur in a beautiful red cape made by Laura; the seamstress had gone the extra mile by embroidering the Pendragon crest into the sides that draped over his shoulders. Garrett stepped back, surveying his work before passing the king a pair of gloves. Arthur pulled the leather over his hands before grabbing the sword in the stone and resting it against his hip.

"Sire?"

Arthur looked up. "Yes?"

Garrett lightly blushed, his eyes on the ground.

"I was told that all great swords used by kings in battle have a name. I wondered… could you tell me yours?"

Arthur blinked. A name? He'd never thought of one before. He drew his sword and looked at the gold plaited surface. Kilgharrah had translated the unfamiliar language. The words read 'Take Me Up' on one side and 'Cast Me Away' on the other. As Arthur continued to observe the fine workmanship and its origin – Nieryn had finally confessed to Guinevere and the others that it had once been the sword made by her father – a name naturally sprung to mind.

"Excalibur," he whispered and a ripple of power seemed to flow from the sword. As it washed over Arthur, a large smile climbed his cheeks. He looked up at Garrett. "Its name is Excalibur," he declared.

A guard then rushed into the tent, his worried expression causing the smile on Arthur's face to drop immediately.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Sire, just now," the guard stuttered, "one of Bane's soldiers rode into the camp and…" he stopped and shook his head.

Frowning, Arthur pushed past him, throwing the tent flap aside. A small group had gathered a few feet away including Leon, Lancelot, and Cadogan. Noticing him, Leon broke away from the others, his face forlorn.

"What happened?" Arthur demanded.

"It would appear that Bane has made his decision," he gravely replied, gesturing behind him.

Arthur, now close enough to see what everyone was looking at, could make out the crumbled form of a broken body on the ground. Upon closer inspection, he realized the head had been removed, blood pooling into the grassy floor; the murder looked fresh. Bile threatened to climb up his throat but Arthur suppressed it. Righteous anger boiled beneath his veins and he turned away from the body.

"Bury the remains and gather the men," he ordered, walking back to his tent. "We're to march in an hour."

Leon inclined his head. "Yes, Sire."

Once in the safety of his tent, Arthur fell against his desk and shut his eyes, his arms shaking as he tried to contain the emotions swirling within him. So this was the kind of man Bane was? Beheading messengers sent under a white flag and returning their bodies as means of answer? That soldier probably had a family and now they had been left fatherless and widowed. How hard would it have been to simply send him back with a negative reply? Arthur's guilt consumed him. He was leading these men to their deaths.

"Arthur?"

Arthur tried to control his breathing as he turned to face the newcomer. It was Harry.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

The wizard observed him through his strange round spectacles before letting out a sigh.

"I saw what happened."

"I'm sure everyone will know within the hour," Arthur murmured.

"Look, I know that man probably didn't think he was going to die but it happened and there's nothing we can do to fix it. The only thing we can do is face Bane and stop him from hurting anyone else in the future. I've been in battles before and I've seen some of my closest friends die. There were times I didn't want to keep trying but others reminded me that those who died held a hope in their hearts that the cause they fought for would become a reality by the hand of those left behind. Don't lose sight of what we're here for, Arthur. We need you to lead us."

The king stared at Harry with renewed strength. Walking over to him, he clasped his forearm.

"Thank you, my friend."

Harry smiled. "You're welcome."

An hour later the army had assembled and Arthur stood at its head, looking out at the sea of faces. Some he recognized but most he did not. Even so, he felt an overwhelming gratitude that each was willing to give their life for a cause he prayed he could make a reality. The crests of Nemeth, Gawant, and Caerleon shone in the dull morning light along with the Triskelion, the druidic symbol, sported by some of the sorcerers. So many differences and yet they stood together, interspersed, with a common goal. Arthur felt something rising within his chest. He turned to the wizard that stood beside him. Like the other sorcerers, Harry didn't sport any chainmail but he was wearing a tunic under his brown vest that had the Pendragon crest sewn into the shoulders like Arthur's cape.

"Harry, can you magnify my voice like Hermione did all those weeks ago?"

"Sure," Harry replied. Facing his palm towards Arthur, he muttered, _"Sonorus."_

Arthur looked at him and Harry nodded, silently indicating the spell was in effect; since his eyes never lit gold, Arthur could never tell. Taking a deep breath, the king addressed the crowd.

"Men of Nemeth, Gawant, Caerleon, and the Old Religion," he paused, gaining their full attention. "My brothers in arms. Today, we do battle. Today we end this war. We end a war as old as the land itself. A war against tyranny… and greed… and spite. Not all will greet tomorrow's dawn. Some will live. Some will die. But each and every one of you fights with honor and with pride. For not only do we fight for ourselves; we fight for the future; the future of Camelot; the future of Albion; the future of the united kingdoms!" He drew Excalibur and thrust it into the air. " _For the love of Albion!"_

There was a collective shout as the gathered army repeated the cry, thousands of voices bellowing at the top of their lungs, _"For the love of Albion!"_

Arthur then nodded to Harry who removed the spell. The king signaled for the march to commence before turning on his heel and leading the procession through the remainder of the woods towards the walls of Camelot. Nieryn swooped down onto his shoulders a moment later, one of her wings slightly clipping the back of his head in greeting.

"Guinevere is safely with Freya and Gaius," she reported.

"Good," Arthur thankfully sighed. "I trust all is well?"

"They made sure to set up multiple tents on the northern side of the forest throughout the night," Nieryn assured. "The physicians and druids healers have everything they need to care for the wounded. Having Gaius there will be a huge help; he is one of the greatest physicians in the five kingdoms."

"I'm glad he decided to come," Arthur smiled.

He'd sent a missive to the old man about a week before they were to leave for Camelot. Instead of sending a return missive with his reply, Gaius had just showed up. Guinevere had also sent a message to her friend, Alice, who arrived around the same time and it turned out both healers had once been a couple. They had been separated when the Purge first began, Gaius forcing Alice to leave so she wouldn't fall prey to Uther's wrath. She'd been gone for two months when Bane attacked and ended Uther's madness but Gaius never tried contacting her because he feared Bane's soldiers might track him and Sir Ector down. It had been a rather touching reunion to witness. Now both were with Freya and Guinevere, preparing to tend to those who would suffer during this war. Arthur was grateful to all of them for their willingness to help.

They reached the edge of the forest and Arthur gave the order for the sorcerers to create the illusion of the army splitting and surrounding the city. Once the spell was confirmed to be in place, the king stepped out from the cover of the trees and marched straight towards the city of his birthright.

Camelot was stunning.

Its white walls shone in the early morning light, the inner citadel standing tall enough to see despite the twenty foot outer wall currently manned by hundreds of archers. The second Arthur and the others were within range, arrows started to fall from the heavens.

Harry threw up his hands and shouted, _"Protego!"_

No less than ten arrows aimed at the king bounced off Harry's shield, falling harmlessly into the dirt. Arthur nodded his thanks as he continued to march forward undeterred. The captains spread out their combined divisions on either side of Arthur's small gathering of men, Rodor and Godwyn on his right with Queen Annis and Leon at his left; the others were gathered in various groups behind them. Though the enemy was still attacking, Arthur had given the order for none to retaliate until the shields were down; they would be wasting their arrows if they did otherwise. Commanding the sorcerers to spread out to erect shields that would protect their sections of the army, the king turned to Nieryn. The dragon grinned before taking to the air.

Kilgharrah was the first to shift into his proper size. His golden scales gleamed in the sun's rays as he let out a roar that rattled Arthur's eardrums, twisting his body magnificently through the air fifty feet above them. The other dragons followed his example, their small bodies rippling with magic as they fluidly grew into the terrifying beasts they truly were. Arthur didn't blame several in the ranks for swearing and slightly ducking in fear as the dragons swooped overhead; they truly were a sight to behold. Camelot's soldiers cried out in alarm, pointing up at the beasts and hopelessly firing spells and arrows in their direction. Their attacks slipped effortlessly off the dragons' scales and somewhere to his far right Arthur head Balinor chuckle.

The dragons formed a loose circle twenty feet above Camelot's outer wall before unleashing fire from their mighty jaws. All of Camelot disappeared under the inferno and even Arthur felt the heat begin to scorch his skin despite the fact that he was at least fifty feet away from the city. Sweat dripped down his brow and his eyes started to sting as he watched the display with fixed fascination. A minute passed and the dragons ceased their attack at the same time a mighty _CRACK_ rent the air. Through the smoke Arthur was able to see the remains of some kind of dome over the city flickering out of existence. Without a moment's pause he drew Excalibur, sent a war cry, and began the charge towards the main gate.

The earth rumbled as thousands of feet sprinted across its surface while the air became filled with the cries of spells and the whistle of arrows from both parties. Harry was throwing spell after spell towards the soldiers above them until Arthur commanded him to focus on breaking down the gate as they approached.

Harry directed both palms towards the wooden structure and shouted, _"Reducto!"_

The result was both beautiful and catastrophic.

The gate was _obliterated_ ; not even a piece of wood remained to be found! The stone wall on either side of it for at least ten feet had been completely reduced to a pile of rubble, the remnants having fallen in all directions. The men once standing on said wall were now scattered on the ground, meeting death just from Harry's spell or from being crushed by the remains of the wall. Arthur wasn't the only one who was temporarily stunned.

He turned to Harry who was staring at the destruction with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Do that again," Arthur commanded, gesturing towards the walls that were still standing.

Harry obliged, throwing his hands out to either side, blasting yet another large chunk from the walls. More of Bane's soldiers were sent flying while screaming to their deaths. Encouraged, Arthur resumed his course towards the opening that, thanks to Harry, was now more than forty feet wide. Camelot's soldiers began emerging from the opening as well and Arthur soon found himself facing his first opponent. The knight bore the black tree of Bane's crest as he rushed at Arthur with his sword aiming for his head. The king blocked the strike and returned it with his own. In three seconds, he'd won and was facing his next foe.

The fight to get into the city was proving more difficult than Arthur had first bargained, Bane's men appearing desperate to keep them from breeching anything passed the Lower Town. Just when Arthur was considering a new strategy, Nieryn, now the size of a horse, flew over a large cluster of Camelot knights and burnt them to a crisp. Letting out an angry roar, the dragoness twisted around and soared right into the enemy, effectively creating a pathway for Arthur and his squadron to get through.

"On me!" he shouted, swinging Excalibur before pressing the charge.

Harry and the others followed, meeting any wayward enemies and razing them to the ground. Nieryn played her part too, using the buildings on either side to latch onto and reign down fire at many soldiers heading in their direction. The few that managed to escape her attack were met by Arthur and his men, the king wasting no time removing all hindrances in his path. Once past the Lower Town, Arthur turned down the street he knew would lead to the siege tunnels. He vaguely heard Rodor and Godwyn press on behind him, continuing their forward march towards the citadel. He could only hope the others were having success in reaching their destinations as he continued to take down soldier after soldier dressed in blue with a black tree; there honestly seemed to be no end to them, the entire path filled with countless warriors.

"We must be getting close," Harry huffed sometime later as he used a spell to blast six men into a nearby wall.

Arthur nodded in agreement, shoving a rather burly man away from him before plunging Excalibur into his gut. Having a temporary moment of respite, Arthur used it to observe how his men were fairing. They'd been reduced to half the number they'd originally been, the survivors' faces covered in dirt, blood, and sweat, their forms beginning to ripple with fatigue as they continued their vigil to fight for their lives. Glancing overhead, Arthur deduced that it had to be close to noon at this point. They'd been fighting for a strong six hours and still the entrance to the siege tunnels was beyond their sight.

"We have to keep going," he muttered, twisting around and punching a man in the face who had been trying to sneak up on him. "Come on!"

Nieryn swooped above them and let out a roar before once again shoving her body through the enemy ranks to create a small opening. Arthur could tell she was tiring as she folded her wings and used her claws and teeth to cut men to ribbons. Blood sprayed across the ground, further staining Arthur's boots as he plowed his way past her, meeting his own enemies and rewarding them with death. One of the soldiers threw a curse at him and Arthur used Excalibur to block it – though a portion did manage to cut through the chainmail into his arm. Hissing from the pain, Arthur retaliated by rushing the man and slicing him across the chest. The sorcerer seemed surprised before he fell over, dead. Taking a moment to breathe, Arthur shoved the pain aside and focused on the soldier-infested path.

Another half hour passed before Arthur's remaining forces finally reached their destination. Nieryn had flown off to receive some respite, Arthur fully agreeing that she'd earned it. The king now sported several cuts across his face and arms like the rest of his men. The blood stung as it mixed with his sweat but Arthur did not let his discomfort show as he faced their newest threat.

Standing in front of the small barred entrance was a remarkably attractive woman with large blue eyes and long black hair. She wore a blood red dress, her painted lips the same color as she sent them an evil smirk. Standing around her was a small force of men – Arthur counted ten at least. His remaining forces were thirty strong but he wasn't about to relax; the woman's forces were fresh while his men had almost seven hours of exhaustion coursing through their weary bodies.

"My, my, how the fates have favored me," the woman grinned. "Arthur Pendragon, as I live and breathe."

"Who are you?" he demanded, holding aloft his sword.

"I am Nimueh, High Priestess of the Old Religion," she answered. "There is no need to be so hostile, Arthur. We share a history, after all."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I used to dwell in Camelot's halls as a friend of your father's," she revealed. "He was so desperate for an heir that he asked me to use magic to secure his bloodline. I warned him that in order to keep the balance the Old Religion required a life to be taken if one was to be given. He didn't seem to mind the terms so I performed the spell. The bargain was struck; your mother died and you lived. Thus began Uther's Purge. He blamed magic for taking his wife when it was his own fault to begin with. Tell me, you didn't inherit his trait of refusing responsibility for your actions, did you?"

Arthur, temporarily stunned by these revelations, did not see the fireball the woman then threw at him – but Harry did. Shouting out a shield spell, Harry defended the king in his moment of weakness. Arthur had not known the truth behind his mother's death – Gaius and Sir Ector had never told him – but now wasn't the time to focus on such things. Thanking Harry, Arthur charged towards Nimueh but he was intercepted by one of her soldiers. The witch laughed as she watched the men fight until Harry started attacking her directly. The witch's smirk turned into a fierce scowl when she realized he wasn't as weak as she had first supposed. Even though Arthur was focusing on his battles, he kept an eye out as wizard and High Priestess dueled in what might have been one of the greatest magic fights he'd ever seen.

Arthur and his men quickly took down the soldiers but Harry and Nimueh's duel made it impossible to reach the siege tunnel entrance. Nimueh had created a huge ball of fire and sent it rocketing towards Harry. The sorcerer grabbed it in midair, holding his palm out as he spun on his heel, pulling the fireball on an invisible chain as he swung it around and hurled it straight back at the witch. Nimueh threw up a shield, the ball exploding into rubble against it. Harry sent shards of icicles without waiting for her to recover. Nimueh summoned a wall of earth to block the oncoming projectiles.

"Who _are_ you?" she demanded after the wall came down. "You have the power of a High Priest but magic does not light your eyes."

Harry shrugged. "You could say I'm not from around here. _Reducto!"_

The witch's shield charm managed to protect her but the area behind was destroyed the same as the city gate had been. The entrance to the siege tunnels was blasted completely apart, revealing the underground hallway plainly to Arthur's view.

"Don't do that again, Harry!" Arthur warned. "We don't want the tunnel collapsing!"

"As if you'd get the chance to reach it!" Nimueh shouted before using a transporting spell to vanish from the area.

"What did she mean by that?" a man asked behind him.

That's when Arthur heard the sound. It was the loud thrum of a pair of wings beating rhythmically some hundred feet above them. A shadow covered them in darkness and Arthur looked up to see a wall of fire cascading straight towards him. Funny; in the face of death, the only thing Arthur could feel was his heart breaking in two.

Someone grabbed Arthur's hand and the next thing he knew, his body was being forced into a space too small for him to fit. Arthur gasped as he was suddenly released from the pressure. He lost his balance, falling forward as a wave of nausea forced the remaining food in his stomach to escape his mouth. Coughing, he wiped his lips and stood up, completely disoriented.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, "I forgot you haven't apparated before."

"What?" Arthur asked, befuddled.

Somehow they were standing outside the city. The sounds of battle mixed with terrified screams carried on the wind as smoke and fire blazed relentlessly behind the damaged outer wall.

"How on earth did we get here?" Arthur demanded, rounding on Harry.

"Apparation," Harry quickly answered. "It's a form of magical transport. Hermione and Ron can do it too but we decided not to use it unless under dire circumstances."

"What happened?" Arthur asked but a moment later he didn't need an explanation.

A terrifying roar was heard in the sky and Arthur looked up in horror to see a humongous black dragon locking its jaws with Kilgharrah, the two furiously flapping their wings as their claws raked into each other's bodies. A flash of silver revealed Nieryn, the dragoness snarling as she rushed from the ground to join the fight. The black dragon threw Kilgharrah away from him before whipping around and knocking Nieryn out of the sky with his tail. The silver dragon spiraled out of control, disappearing within the Forest of Ascetir, the sound of an explosion faintly heard as her body connected with the trees. Kilgharrah's roar alerted the black dragon but didn't give it enough time to prepare before the golden lizard had body-slammed it from the side. The black dragon flew through the sky for several feet before regaining its equilibrium.

The other dragons appeared at that moment, having abandoned their ground forces to fight against the new, highly more dangerous threat. Kilgharrah left the enemy to his children in order to see to his wife, trusting that they could handle the rogue until he returned. Fire exploded from their mouths, colliding with the black dragon's in midair, causing a remarkable airborne inferno that left Arthur temporarily blind.

As their battle continued, the king could do nothing but watch, transfixed, as his dragon friends fell one by one.

Olivium did not return after the black dragon dug his teeth into her neck and used her to smack Ilveri away from damaging his wings. The membrane of Auran's wings had been cut to ribbons by the enemy's claws; he fell thirty feet, using the last of his strength to clear the city before his body connected with the ground. Ilveri was put out of commission after accidentally swallowing a bit of the black dragon's fire, her inners more than likely severely damaged as she landed on the ground, her body writhing in agony as she cried. Jareyth's fate was similar to Auran's except his wings were completely _broken_ by the black dragon's jaws and claws mercilessly attacking them.

Arthur didn't realize that tears were trailing down his cheeks. Inwardly his heart was breaking, his body shaking as he watched the black dragon face off once more against Kilgharrah who had just returned from the Forest of Ascetir. The golden dragon bellowed in rage, attacking the black dragon with a vengeance, his jaws locking into his opponent's shoulder and forcibly ripping off a large chuck of skin.

The black dragon screamed in agony before retaliating by beating Kilgharrah's head with his tail. Kilgharrah flew upward and the black dragon pursued, the two disappearing into the clouds. A moment later, there was a blast of blue energy that lit up the sky and a small, dark speck began to grow into the form of Kilgharrah's opponent as it fell towards the ground. Arthur was suddenly seized by the shoulders as Harry started dragging him away.

"We need to move!" he shouted under Arthur's inquiring glare _. "He's going to fall right on top of us!"_

Realizing that Harry was right, Arthur turned around and quickly followed him to the trees. They just barely made it before the black dragon slammed into the earth, its wide girth pushing up great mounds of dirt and destroying another section of Camelot's outer wall. It was surprisingly still awake, one large blue eye visible from Arthur's perspective as it twisted back onto all fours. Kilgharrah landed just as the dragon regained its balance, its nostrils flaring as its body trembled in obvious exertion and pain. Blood freely dripped from its injured shoulder. It crouched when its eyes landed on Kilgharrah, a snarl escaping its blood-stained teeth.

"Merlin, you must cease this nonsense!" Kilgharrah bellowed. "We are your _friends!"_

Merlin snarled again before blasting a thick wave of fire towards him.

"Why is he doing this?!" Harry desperately cried.

Arthur shook his head, watching forlornly as the dragons resumed their battle. Kilgharrah gave it his all, pounding Merlin repeatedly with spells and physical attacks but it appeared that the black dragon didn't know when to quit. Though now bleeding in several places where magic had lacerated past his thick dragonhide, Merlin still continued to use his claws, teeth, and tail to repeatedly pummel the Great Dragon. Eventually he locked onto one of Kilgharrah's legs and the golden dragon cried out as Arthur heard bones break. Merlin didn't let go; he shook his head repeatedly in quick succession before finally tossing Kilgharrah across the field. The great beast rolled end over end, his wings now damaged and sticking up at odd angles against his broken body. With murderous intent clearly displayed in his eyes, Merlin slowly began approaching his victim.

Arthur had seen enough. Without a plan of action, he rushed from the trees, stopping only when he was effectively between the two dragons.

"Merlin _, STOP!"_ he commanded, throwing out his arms.

The black dragon, now ten feet away, halted his course, his large blue eyes staring blankly down at the one who dared challenge him. Arthur had to admit he was inwardly terrified. Merlin was a hundred times his size at the moment and, though injured, was still fully capable of killing him right on the spot.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded.

The dragon didn't answer.

Arthur stared up into his friend's face and noticed for the first time that Merlin's eyes were vacant, devoid of any recognition or the usual sparkle they once contained. His stomach clenched unconsciously in fear.

"Merlin?" he hesitantly prompted.

"He will not answer you."

Arthur twisted around. Standing five feet away was a man with curly black hair, heartless gray eyes, and a sadistic evil smirk. He wore chainmail and a blue cloak sporting the black tree of Bane's house. The bottom of the cloak was soaked in blood, the sword in his hand also.

"Who are you?" Arthur demanded, keeping one eye on Merlin in case he tried anything.

"I suppose I would be more identifiable if I were wearing a crown?" the man sneered.

"Bane?"

"In the flesh," the usurper declared. "I must say, I shouldn't be surprised your men managed to successfully take the city – yet I feel I have won because I have taken the one thing you were so desperate to save."

"What have you done to him?" Arthur snarled, tightening his grip on Excalibur's hilt.

"I merely had to wait for his resolve to weaken enough for me to manipulate him," Bane answered. "Simply put, I took over his mind. A sorcerer of such distinguished power would normally negate mental attacks but, when you block off their magic, it's only a matter of time before their resolve crumbles and they succumb to another's will."

"You used the _Imperius Curse_ on _Merlin?"_

Bane first looked surprised and then irked to see Harry now standing fuming by Arthur's side.

"Well, well, well, apparently I'm not the only one manipulating time. Tell me, Harry Potter, did you come alone?"

"I'm never alone, Mordred, but you are," Harry answered.

Arthur frowned. "You know each other?"

"He's from the future," Harry spat, disgust written all over his face. "He traveled into the past and destroyed _everything_. I'm sorry, Arthur, he was never meant to be here. He rewrote history and by so doing ruined _everyone's_ lives."

Mordred smiled. "That was the point! I am making a _better_ _world_ , Harry, and now that I have Merlin under my control, none of you will stand in my way! Kill them both!" he shouted up at the dragon.

Merlin's jaws filled with fire and Arthur once again experienced the sensation of apparation as Harry removed them from harm's way. Now twenty feet from where they had previously been, Arthur tried to stop himself from vomiting bile.

"Harry, what is going on?" he demanded as Merlin turned to face them again, the grass scorched and smoldering where his targets had formerly stood.

"Mordred's using a spell from the future – it's unforgiveable but dark wizards still use it – it controls people against their will."

"I gathered that! Can it be broken?"

They ran to avoid Merlin's tail crushing them to death.

"I've broken it myself but I think, at this point, the only way to help him is to talk him out of it!" Harry shouted before once again apparating them away from the dragon's fire. "I think if you spoke to him, your voice would get through."

"I can't do that if you keep whisking me all over the place," Arthur snapped as he nauseously twisted around to find his dragon friend. "Look, leave Merlin to me; I'll entrust Bane or Mordred _or whoever he is_ to you."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked as he watched Merlin rushing towards them, preparing for another attack.

"Yes, now _GO!"_ Arthur snapped, pushing him away.

Harry ran, heading towards the wall where Bane stood. Arthur looked up at Merlin and took a deep breath. He had no idea what he was going to do but he had to get the idiot to listen. Merlin, now towering above him, inhaled sharply in preparation to blast a fresh wave of fire in his direction. Arthur did the only thing he could to defend himself; he thrust Excalibur in front of his body and prayed to all the gods above that the sword's magic would protect him. Closing his eyes, Arthur waited to be consumed in the intense heat –

Nothing happened.

Peeking upwards, he realized that Merlin stood transfixed, his large eyes lingering unblinkingly on the sword.

Arthur dared a glance at Bane. The sorcerer was completely distracted, mixed up in a duel to the death with Harry. The king turned back to the dragon. If he was going to get through to him, now was the time.

"Merlin! It's Arthur! I know you can hear me, you idiotic simpleton! Bane has you under some kind of spell! He had you attack the dragons and now he's ordered you to kill me. But I know you won't do it! Do you know how I know that? Because I'm the one you've been looking for; _I am the Once and Future King!"_

With the declaration of these words, the vacancy in the dragon's blue eyes seemed to vanish, the irises flashing a brilliant shade of gold before returning to their natural color, the large orbs filling with confusion and pain. Merlin's legs shook violently before the dragon fell, his lungs heaving from exhaustion, a whimper escaping his bloodstained jaws. Arthur ran forward, stopping next to Merlin's head. He hesitated a moment before reaching outward and placing a gloved hand on Merlin's snout. The dragon's eyelids flew open and for the first time Arthur saw fear within them.

"It's alright," he soothed, rubbing his hand comfortingly against Merlin's scaly cheek. "It's alright."

"A-Arthur?" Merlin stuttered, staring at him in shock. "What – How – Where are we?"

"It's a bit of a long story," Arthur weakly chuckled, "but before I tell it, could you change your current appearance?"

Merlin groaned and shook his head. "C-Can't; my magic is bound."

Arthur frowned. "Can we fix that?"

"The cuff on my leg," Merlin whimpered, "it needs to come off."

Arthur pushed away from Merlin's cheek and walked around his rather large frame until he came to his back right leg. The scales in this particular area had been rubbed raw, exposing bloodied red skin around a huge silver ring encrusted with the language of the Old Religion. He gingerly touched the area and Merlin shivered, instinctively pulling his leg away. Arthur approached again but the dragon drew back a second time.

"For heaven's sake, Merlin, I can't get it off if you keep wiggling!" he complained.

"Sorry," Merlin painfully hissed as he brought his long neck around to watch.

"It's right up against your skin," Arthur muttered with a concerned brow. "I can see a keyhole here but Bane probably has the key."

"You could try using your sword," Merlin wearily suggested while closing his eyes as another round of pain wracked his body.

Arthur stared down at Excalibur and shook his head. "I can't. The blade would cut you."

"Try it anyway," Merlin cried. "Please, Arthur… please…"

The dragon's eyes were filled with tears, his body shaking with suppressed sobs.

"But I'll hurt you," Arthur whispered, his voice cracking.

"Only for a little while," Merlin consoled, "Besides, I'm sure it'll be better than the pain I've already endured these past few weeks."

Arthur took a deep breath to build up his resolve. "Alright, I'll try."

He placed the tip of Excalibur between the cuff and Merlin's injured skin. The dragon winced but nodded, displaying the inner courage Arthur had always admired him for. Drawing on that strength, Arthur forced Excalibur between the cuff and leg before twisting it and pulling it back towards him. Merlin screamed at the same time the cuff broke. Arthur fell backward into the dirt as the dragon's eyes burst into the purest shade of gold he had ever seen. A shockwave of magic exploded from Merlin's skin, the wave of gold healing Arthur's cuts and bruises and restoring his energy instantly. As the king stood, he realized he wasn't the only one to benefit from the phenomenon.

Kilgharrah had been healed, the dragon returning to his feet. Arthur then turned to watch in wonder as the walls around Camelot rebuilt themselves, the main gate materializing as if it had sprung up from the ground. The earth that had been altered from the two dragons' previous battle leveled out, green grass springing up from the dirt accompanied with wild flowers. Inside the castle walls, Arthur heard exclamations of surprise and he could only assume that whatever damage had been done to the city was also being repaired.

The dragon beside him let out a satisfied sigh of relief before the form rippled and shrunk into the warlock's true form. Adorned in a blue tunic, red neckerchief, and brown jacket, Merlin turned to face Arthur and bit his lip. Assessing the warlock and finding him in perfect health, the king sheathed his sword and he strode purposefully towards him.

Merlin's eyes filled with fear. "Arthur," he began.

But he was cut off as Arthur flung his arms around his neck. "You idiot," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"A-Arthur?" Merlin spluttered.

"Shut up," Arthur growled into Merlin's shoulder. "Just, _shut_ _up_ , you idiot."

The king couldn't bring himself to draw away, tightening his hold on his warlock and burying his tearstained face into the fabric around Merlin's neck. Though concerned with how thin Merlin seemed to feel, the king couldn't help but be elated as the broken pieces of his heart welded themselves together. For the first time in five years Arthur felt like he was whole again. After a time, Merlin lifted his arms and wrapped them around Arthur's back, a sob escaping his throat.

"I'm sorry," the warlock whispered, "I'm so, _so_ sorry."

Arthur released a similar sob as he nodded. "So am I."

Finally the two drew apart, each side of the coin staring into the eyes of the other, unable to look anywhere else. Reflected in Merlin's gaze was the same brotherly love and devotion Arthur was trying to express.

"Merlin, what I said before… I was angry and hurt."

Merlin shook his head. "It was my fault. My magic reacted without me even prompting it to. Believe me, Arthur, I would have saved Ector too if I had been in control."

Arthur wiped his eyes. "I know," he whispered. "I know, Merlin. Can you forgive me for pushing you away?"

"Of course," the warlock stated at once. "Can you forgive me for what happened?"

"There's nothing to forgive," Arthur smiled.

Merlin's eyes welled with tears as soon as the words sunk in. Another sob escaped him and he suddenly fell to his knees. Arthur's gaze was fond as he smiled.

"Careful, Merlin, you're starting to act like a girl's petticoat."

"Says the dollophead," Merlin laughed through his tears.

Arthur chuckled before joining him on the ground. Taking his shoulders, Arthur gently shook them a bit until he had the warlock's undivided attention. This moment was long overdue. Even now fear coursed beneath his veins but Arthur refused to run from his destiny any longer.

"Merlin," he began, but the words caught in his throat. Clearing it, he tried again. "It's _my_ fault you were captured."

"No it wasn't," Merlin began to argue.

"Yes, it was," Arthur interrupted. "Let me explain, you idiot. A few days before Ector died… it was my birthday."

"I remember," Merlin nodded. "It's the last happy memory I have of us."

Arthur smiled sadly. "Yes. Well, after the party was over and you left, Sir Ector pulled me aside and revealed that Uther Pendragon was my father."

He waited to see how Merlin would process this information. Uther had nearly destroyed his people, after all, murdering sorcerers and attempting to wipe the dragons from existence. Arthur wouldn't blame him if Merlin held him responsible for those deaths now that his father was gone. The warlock sat there, his brows furrowed as he processed this information.

"You're the son of Uther Pendragon?" he whispered.

"Yes."

"That means…" Merlin looked up at him, his eyes widening. "Could you possibly be…?"

Arthur smirked, pulling Excalibur from his side and resting it in his lap.

"You really shouldn't force swords into solid stone, Merlin. It ruins the steel."

Merlin's jaw dropped. His eyes as wide as saucers, he stared from the sword to Arthur and back again.

"You're…?" but his voice failed him.

"I'm the Once and Future King, Merlin," Arthur confirmed with a guilty countenance. "I've known ever since Ector told me who I really was. The way you used to talk about the bond between you and your King… I felt that way the day we met. I didn't know what it was at the time but after I learned who I was… I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I was afraid, you see. I thought I'd be a disappointment not only to you but to Camelot. I've been running from everything for so long but the moment I learned you were captured I realized I couldn't run anymore. I'll understand if you're disappointed but know that I will do everything I can to be the King you and the people want."

"You're my King," Merlin whispered, staring at Arthur in disbelief.

Arthur nodded, shifting nervously under the warlock's stare.

Another unbearable moment passed and then Merlin's face split into a brilliant grin that could rival the sun. His tears transformed to ones of absolute joy as he threw his arms around Arthur's neck. Arthur let out a shocked laugh as he also started to cry again.

"I wanted it to be you," Merlin sobbed.

"Sorry it took me so long," Arthur murmured, unaware that they were gaining an audience.

"It doesn't matter," Merlin mumbled, his forehead resting against Arthur's shoulder. "It doesn't matter."

"It would appear I was correct," a voice boomed somewhere above them, making them jump. Arthur and Merlin looked up to see Kilgharrah's smug grin. "A half truly cannot hate that which makes it whole."

Merlin and Arthur shared a smile and wiped their eyes before helping each other to their feet, Arthur replacing Excalibur at his side.

"Still talking in riddles, Kilgharrah," Arthur dramatically sighed, "Whatever will we do with you?"

"Nothing life threatening, please," the dragon sighed as he sat on his haunches. "I've had enough of fighting Merlin to last me a lifetime."

"Are you admitting that I severely kicked your scaly backside?" Merlin grinned.

"Only because I'd previously been fighting against sorcerers for hours on end, Merlin," Kilgharrah huffed. "Have you any idea how tough it can be to fight against a High Priestess? If I hadn't stepped in Morgause would have succeeded in killing her sister."

"Is Morgana alright?" Harry asked, surprising both Merlin and Arthur since they hadn't noticed him drawing near while speaking to the dragon.

"She'll be fine, Chosen One," Kilgharrah answered. "The witch is very strong."

"Bane?" Arthur questioned.

Harry shrugged. "We fought. I won. Just another day in my line of work."

Arthur and Merlin looked to where Bane's body lay near Camelot's newly restored wall.

"Is he…?" Merlin began.

Harry gravely nodded. "He wouldn't have stopped if I left him alive."

"Who are you?" Merlin wondered, staring at Harry, impressed.

"Harry Potter," he introduced, holding out his hand. "Not to freak you out or anything but your future self sent me and my two friends back into the past to help you and Arthur."

Merlin stared. "I'm sorry, what?"

"We'll explain later," Arthur promised, chuckling under the warlock's confusion. "For now we need to see how the city is fairing. Come."

The three pressed forward to the main gate, Merlin using his magic to open the thick wood. Arthur took a deep breath before setting foot in the city – _his_ city. The battle to reclaim it may finally be over but he sensed there was another on the horizon: a battle resulting in whether or not the people would accept and reinstate him as their king. The thought was daunting but, as Arthur looked to his right and saw his warlock, he knew that everything would be alright. With Merlin at his side, he could face anything Fate and Destiny decided to throw at him. Of that he had no doubt.


	16. Chapter 16

**This story is almost at its end. Only a couple more chapters to go. Thank you all so much for the last chapter reviews and the others you've left along the way. I know some of you were kind of shocked with how quickly the battle ended. I anticipated it being longer but, alas, my muse was like "NOPE!" so I gave up trying. Anyway, here are the after effects of the battle. Hope you all like it!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 15

Merlin woke to the first rays of dawn, the soft chirping of the morning birds drifting gently through a slightly opened window. He lay still on his side, his eyes lingering on the gentle form of his sleeping wife. Freya's lips were slightly parted, her hair tousled about her face, her nightgown partially falling off one pale shoulder. Merlin's gaze softened. She was beautiful.

How grateful he was to be lying in this soft bed next to the love of his life! He was afraid he'd never have this experience again. His mind suddenly returned to the dark empty cave that had been his home for over a month and the warlock unconsciously shivered. Reminding himself that he was in a spacious room and not the cave hundreds of feet below him, Merlin carefully slipped out of bed before hastening to the window. Pulling the curtain closed so as to keep the room dark for his wife's benefit, Merlin stayed on the side facing the sun, his eyes watching anxiously as the yellow orb continued its ascent into the sky.

The warm rays pushed their way through the glass, Merlin closing his eyes and reveling in the light, an unconscious tear dropping down his incredibly sharp cheekbone. He sighed, the action causing his whole body to shake. Wrapping his thin arms around himself, he tried to focus on his breathing. He was alive, he wasn't a dragon, and he was with his family.

"Merlin?"

Merlin gasped and spun around as the curtains were gently opened to reveal Freya, her hair and nightgown still rumbled about from her deep sleep. She took one look at her husband before smiling sadly and opening her arms. Merlin stepped into them immediately, holding onto her tight while trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

"It's alright," Freya soothed, stroking his hair. "I'm here."

"I know," he weakly murmured.

"Did you have another nightmare?"

Merlin shook his head. "No; it's just hard – being in the dark."

Freya nodded in understanding, taking his hand and leading him back to the bed. Merlin looked back at the sunlight, grateful the sun was now high enough in the sky to allow its rays into the room. How long had he been standing there?

Freya pushed him down on the bed, kissing him lightly on the lips. "Do you want to take a bath?"

Merlin looked at the giant tub on the other side of the room and smiled, remembering the first time he'd taken a bath since Arthur freed him. It had been utter ecstasy. Seeing his expression, Freya chuckled before walking over to a side table and picking up a pitcher of water. Pouring the contents into the tub, she set the jug down and then whispered a spell. The amount of water within the tub grew until it was full. Merlin shrugged out of his clothes as Freya warmed the water. Kissing her in thanks, the warlock slipped into the warmth and sighed.

"Bathtubs are one of the greatest inventions of all time," he muttered as he heard Freya slip into the water.

His wife chuckled as she settled next to him, her arms wrapping completely around his thin chest. Merlin frowned, remembering a time when she hadn't been able to do that; his magic may have healed all his physical wounds but the malnutrition he had experienced under Bane's orders had left him nothing but skin and bone. Arthur had been incredibly concerned about his health and made Gaius see to him at once. The old physician had placed him under a careful diet and ordered that he avoid heavy physical labor and using large quantities of magic until told otherwise.

Merlin hadn't been too excited about the diagnosis since the avoidances also included any lengthy intimate moments with his wife. But many creative ideas soon sprung from the need to satisfy his desires; there was no way he could fully avoid his passion – not when he'd been deprived it against his will for a month. Needless to say, the first night he'd been reunited with Freya had been incredible even if they hadn't been able to consummate using their usual routine.

Freya kissed him gently before one of her hands reached up and idly played with one of his ears. "How are you feeling today?"

Merlin sighed, kissing her hair. "Much better than yesterday; I don't think I ate enough."

"Then today you need to make sure you eat everything they bring," Freya gently admonished. "I know it's a lot for you to handle right now but you need to eat, Merlin. I'm worried about you. We all are."

Merlin sighed. "I know. Gwen is almost as bad as you and Arthur."

Freya chuckled. "Though I haven't known her long, I really do love her. She's a perfect match for our king."

Merlin smiled. "Our king," he repeated, elated.

He still couldn't believe that Arthur was his King. After so many years of hoping, longing, and wishing, his dreams had finally become a reality. Arthur may have felt completely unworthy of the title but Merlin knew he was more than qualified to lead the land into an establishment of peace. He had been surprised to see Arthur embracing and even _kissing_ Gwen after the battle but like Freya, he agreed that the blacksmith's daughter was a perfect match.

"I wonder when he'll propose," Merlin mused, thinking of how wonderful that would be to attend Arthur's wedding; it was one of his regrets, not having Arthur there when he got married. The king had also expressed his sorrow for not attending, demanding that Merlin be at his right side at his own to make up for it. Merlin had happily agreed.

"It won't be long now," Freya chuckled. "The limited free time he has, Arthur spends it between you and her. Come to think of it, your free time is spent in similar fashion."

Merlin blushed. "I can't help that, Freya. It's weird but now that we've recompensed, I harbor a small fear that if I'm away from him for too long then Arthur will disappear again."

"I know," she sighed, slipping her hands over his. "You would think that a wife would get suspicious of her husband spending so much time with another person – and a man, no less! – but I feel completely at peace sharing you. I've spoken with Gwen and she feels the same."

Merlin looked scandalized. "Freya, you know there's nothing romantic between me and Arthur, right?"

Freya laughed, flicking his nose. "Of course I do, dummy. I wouldn't be this calm if I didn't."

"Oh, right," Merlin grinned, finally relaxing.

His wife shook her head, exasperated. "Honestly, Merlin. The prophecies describe Emrys and the Once and Future King as two sides of the same coin. Of course you're going to naturally gravitate to one another. You're both separate entities but you are one in the destiny and purpose you share. Also, why would I try to come between you when this is the first time I have ever seen you completely happy?"

Merlin smiled, his eyes softening with love as he beheld his love. Wrapping her into his arms, he passionately kissed her. "I love you," he murmured against her skin.

"As I love you," she happily sighed.

After a few heated kisses, the two decided it was best to get ready for the day. Taking turns caring for the other, they washed their hair and bodies with the provided materials before getting out and dressing in the clothes they'd been given when first assigned these rooms. Arthur had ordered the servant in charge of their clothes to provide Merlin with a set of neckerchiefs. The warlock had been utterly distraught upon learning that his hoard had been left at the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Gwen had apologized profusely to him, saying that Morgana had whisked them away before she could even consider grabbing any of his personal effects.

Because he was unfit to travel, Merlin's father promised to fetch them but the journey would have to wait until things settled down. There were still a lot of bandits in the woods and thanks to Merlin beating up all the dragons, Balinor couldn't simply take Kilgharrah or Nieryn for a joy ride; Merlin's magic may have healed the worst of their injuries but they were still rather tender and definitely unable to travel at the moment. Balinor would have to make the journey himself and his son eventually agreed that traveling alone or with a small band of men to get a bunch of neckwear wasn't the best idea. Gwen had placated his sour mood with a neckerchief she'd stitched herself, the red fabric holding a beautiful pattern of the Triskelion in fine blue embroidery. It had become Merlin's favorite instantly and that was saying something since he owned more neckerchiefs than Camelot's armory did swords.

Securing the beloved neckerchief over a fine blue tunic, Merlin threw on his leather jacket and tried to ignore the way the clothing hung over his shoulders. He knew he was underfed and he was very self-conscious of the way he currently looked but he also knew that nobody judged him for his appearance. The story of his imprisonment was well known among all the knights of Nemeth, Caerleon, and Gawant and naturally spread throughout the city to Camelot's native inhabitants – all of which were incredibly grateful and supportive of Arthur reclaiming his throne.

Bane – or Mordred as the future trio called him – had been a tyrant that almost everyone hated. There had been a few sorcerers within his highest ranks who had supported him, each trying to kill Arthur and Harry for revenge, but Merlin and the other sorcerers on Arthur's side made quick work of them. It had been a week since they'd taken Camelot and Merlin couldn't think of a more natural habitat for Arthur. His king just seemed to radiate within Camelot's walls and, though he'd always considered Farworyn his home, Merlin couldn't help but think he'd found a better one.

It was just as he was finishing helping Freya tie up her dress that the king himself decided to just let himself in. Arthur burst into the room in nothing but a simple tunic, belt, trousers, and boots. Merlin raised an eyebrow as he sent him a disapproving frown.

"You know, bursting into a chamber occupied by a married couple isn't the best idea, sire."

Arthur's face flushed as he scowled. "Shut up, Merlin."

"Good morning to you too," Merlin laughed.

"How are you, Arthur?" Freya asked as she swatted Merlin's arm.

Arthur schooled his sheepish expression to send her a polite smile. "I'm well. I trust that both of you slept soundly?"

"Do you really want to know?" Merlin asked with a gleam in his eye.

Arthur grabbed a candlestick sitting on a small dresser next to the door and threw it at Merlin's head. The warlock's eyes flashed gold, halting the object before it could hit him in the face. Grinning, he sent it back to Arthur who caught it with an annoyed scowl.

"If I wanted any of your cheeky remarks, I would have asked for them," he groused.

"Too bad you'll get them whether you like them or not."

"You do realize I'm the king now?"

"Yes, and?"

"That means you can't tell me what to do," Arthur declared.

"Of course I can," Merlin retorted, fighting not to smile. "If I don't then your head would inflate. You're already a big enough prat as it is – I would have thought the five years apart would have changed that but, alas, some things can't be cured."

A wicked gleam came into Arthur's eye and Merlin frowned; it was never a good thing when Arthur had that look.

"Have you ever heard of the stocks, Merlin?"

Merlin swallowed nervously. "Who hasn't? They were your favorite thing to ask authorities to use on the criminals we caught in Alnwick."

"Well, they have a rather lovely set here in Camelot – and guess who has the highest authority to use them as he pleases?"

Merlin turned white as a sheet at the thought of being chained up again.

Seeing this, Freya stepped in. "Arthur!" she cried in warning.

As Merlin began to shake, the king realized he'd gone too far. Stricken with guilt, he stepped forward to comfort the warlock but Freya beat him to it.

"I'm okay," Merlin mumbled as his wife looped her arms around him.

"No, you're not," Freya snapped, glaring at Arthur.

"Merlin, I'm sorry," Arthur apologized. "I really didn't mean it."

"I know," he muttered, resting his head against Freya's shoulder.

The remembrance of pain in every joint – the result of his magic being chained – resurfaced with the ghost of the weight on his ankle from the rune cuff. Merlin shivered. Freya was whispering soothing words to him while Arthur shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot. The moment finally passed and Merlin was able to step out of Freya's embrace.

"I'm such an idiot," Arthur muttered, cursing himself.

Seeing the self-inflicted guilt, Merlin lightly flicked Arthur's nose. The king looked up at him, startled.

"Last I checked, idiot was my title, prat."

The change in the king's countenance was exactly what he'd been aiming for; Arthur's guilt transformed into a small but grateful brotherly smile. Shaking his head, he let out a sigh before gently wrapping an arm around Merlin and guiding him towards the door.

"Come on then, idiot," he muttered, "we're going to have breakfast. Freya, you're invited too; Guinevere's already waiting for us."

It was strange, walking down Camelot's halls and being bowed to by passing servants, guards, knights, and noblemen. Merlin was amazed how Arthur handled it though he could tell that the polite inclinations of his head were a façade to hide his actual discomfort. Reaching a set of double doors, the guards posted there pushed them open to reveal a modern chamber containing a long table and a breakfast setting for four. Gwen stood as they entered, smiling warmly at the sight of them.

Arthur let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders dropping as he relaxed, grinning as Gwen launched herself into his arms. Merlin watched with a contented grin as his best friend kissed the dark-skinned maiden in greeting before happily guiding her to sit in the chair to his left. He indicated for Merlin to sit on his right side and he did so, Freya settling down next to him. The four friends set to work eating the breakfast that had been prepared, Merlin eating a much smaller portion than anyone else per Gaius's orders.

"Not that I feel it's needed but don't servants usually tend to kings as they eat?" Merlin asked as Arthur poured himself another helping of water.

"I may be a king but I'm perfectly capable of refilling my own glass, Merlin," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not completely useless, you know."

"Although the Head of Staff was most displeased when you told him your views," Gwen sighed. "They had quite an argument this morning," she explained to both Merlin and Freya. "Apparently if Arthur doesn't allow the servants to work then they won't get their wages and that will put their lives in jeopardy but Arthur isn't comfortable with them waiting on him all the time."

Merlin frowned. "I understand where you're coming from, Arthur, but having servants is one of the necessary parts of being king. The Head of Staff is right, serving is their livelihood. You wouldn't want to take that away from them, would you?"

Arthur's eyes dropped to his plate, his hand causing his fork to scrape his eggs around the smooth surface. "I don't want to do that but I also don't want people to think I enjoy nobility. Being a king is a burden not a gift."

"But burdens can be suffered through with acceptance and eventually transform into blessings," Merlin countered.

Arthur glared at him. "There you go again, being wise. I hate it when you do that!"

"What? Tell you something that's already buried somewhere in that cabbage headed brain of yours?" – Merlin dodged as Arthur's fork was thrown at him – "Arthur, you already know what you have to do."

Magicking a new fork for his sovereign, Merlin watched as Arthur accepted the tool and stabbed his eggs, unable to look at anyone as he sat there in contemplation. Realizing that he needed a moment, Merlin turned to Gwen and asked where Elyan was.

"He's with the other knights down on the training grounds," she smiled. "Just because the battle is over doesn't mean the men can relax. They wanted to train, to be honest – said they wanted to rebuild Camelot's army so it was worthy of its king."

Arthur groaned. "Why does everyone keep praising me? I hardly did anything! I didn't stop Bane – that was Harry's doing. If anyone should be awarded with praise, it's that man, not me."

"You stopped Merlin from effectively destroying all of Camelot," Freya pointed out. "We may not have been present at the battle but it was well known that the black dragon would have reigned fire upon the whole city had it not been for you freeing him from Bane's control."

"She's right," Merlin muttered. "Though I have no memory of fighting anyone, she's right."

"Kilgharrah and the other dragons did most of the work," Arthur continued to argue. "All I did was talk some sense into you."

"And it was the only thing that worked," Merlin pointed out. "All the dragons tried and failed to do the same thing, Arthur. You alone managed to reach me. Emrys cannot ignore the voice of his King. The moment you declared yourself, I was able to break through Bane's control."

"And it was you who inspired the men and women to fight for Albion's cause," Gwen pointed out. "You may feel that you don't amount to much, Arthur, but you hold more courage and valor than you realize."

"More than almost any man I've ever met," Freya agreed, smiling.

"You're destined to be the greatest king this world will ever know, Arthur," Merlin stated. "And you've already begun to show it to your people. So stop short-changing yourself and allow other people to serve you."

Arthur looked around at the three of them and finally gave in. "Alright, Merlin, you win. I'll allow the servants to do their jobs."

"Thank you," Merlin grinned, popping a grape into his mouth.

After breakfast Arthur was whisked off to a council meeting with the reinstated lords that had helped his father during his rule while Gwen and Freya went to explore the Palace Gardens. Merlin had declined participating with either parties, saying that he wanted to take a quiet walk around the castle. Arthur ordered him not to leave the citadel and Merlin promised he wouldn't; he didn't like the idea of straying very far from Arthur anyway.

He was walking down a hallway when someone grabbed his arm and yanked him into a room. Merlin let out a startled yelp as he nearly lost his balance but his captor pulled him upright before he could hit the floor.

"Sorry!" he said as he steadied him.

 _Smack!_

"Ouch!"

"Was that really necessary, Ron?"

"Was it really necessary to hit me, Hermione?"

"Yes!"

"Will you two give it a rest?"

Merlin watched as the trio supposedly from the future snapped at each other in one of Camelot's empty chambers. He had to admit when he heard their story, he was rather perturbed; who wouldn't be when learning they'd apparently lived for hundreds of years after everyone they knew had become nothing but history? Merlin had naturally avoided them since then but now it seemed they'd finally caught him.

"You know, for a guy that's supposed to be taking it easy, you're rather hard to find," said Hermione, giving up the glaring contest she'd been having with her husband. "Have you been avoiding us, Merlin?"

Merlin's cheeks flushed as he shuffled his feet back and forth. "Um… yeah… about that…"

Harry sighed. "Look, we know that this must be awkward for you – it's awkward for us too."

"Yeah, try getting used to using a chamber pot when you've used a toilet your whole life," Ron groused.

Merlin's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Um, what's a toilet?"

"It's a modern tool," Hermione replied.

"Oh," Merlin muttered, still utterly clueless.

"Although I agree with Ron about never taking modern appliances for granted again, that's not why we pulled you in here," said Harry. "We've been talking about going home and –"

Merlin turned pale.

"Look, I know you told me I was the one who brought you here but I honestly have no clue how to send you back to where you came from," he interrupted. "It requires powerful magic and I can't even perform simple spells without tiring at the moment."

Harry shook his head. "You misunderstand. Though we do want to go home eventually, we have a bigger problem."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

Hermione decided to be the one to explain. "Though we did what we were supposed to do, the future we know still doesn't exist."

Eyebrows now drawing together accompanied with a frown, Merlin shook his head and confessed, "I'm not following."

"Let's sit down," Harry suggested.

The four of them wandered over to the table and took a seat, Merlin doing so with reluctance but also curiosity. While still disconcerted about their origins, these three did intrigue him. Their magic wasn't only unique but quite powerful. If Merlin hadn't been on strict orders to only use minimal spells, he would have tried out several of theirs just for fun. He'd been told other sorcerers couldn't use their magic but he was Magic itself; surely he could do it? Setting the thought aside, Merlin tuned in to listen to what Hermione was saying. And as he listened, the more engrossed he became with the trio's tale.

Apparently they were from an alternate reality, the future that would have been if Bane hadn't traveled through time and killed Uther. Merlin's eyes filled with wonder as he listened to a version of his life where he was a servant, Arthur had grown up a royal, Morgana was evil and their natural enemy, Gwen was a servant turned queen, Elyan, Leon, and the mercenaries had turned into knights, and Gaius was Camelot's Court Physician.

"You and Arthur established Albion and then you were thrust into the future," Hermione said before Harry took over.

In order for Merlin to understand some of the context to this next part of the tale, Harry had to share his story. Speaking of destiny and his fate to kill an evil wizard named Voldemort, Harry told him of discovering he was a wizard and going to Hogwarts, a school for young witches and wizards where they could learn magic. Merlin was beside himself with excitement when he learned Hogwarts was actually built from the ruins of Camelot. The idea of a magical school intrigued him. It was such an amazing concept! But his thoughts on the matter were pushed aside as Harry briefly described the Statute of Secrecy and Voldemort's desire to kill and rule over muggles – nonmagic folk, he'd quickly defined.

The warlock was saddened over the thought that magic was hidden from nonmagical people. His dream had always been a world where both those with magic and those without could live together in harmony. He really didn't like the sound of Harry, Ron, and Hermione's future until they started to describe his involvement with the hunting of Voldemort's horcruxes. He had to admit, he was intrigued as Harry explained that Arthur and the knights had followed him into the future and the seven of them – Lancelot wasn't there because he'd died at some point in the past – then helped with the quest to bring Voldemort down. Morgana and Gwen had also gotten involved, the witch joining Voldemort's forces while the others rescued Gwen from some kind of trap. The Battle of Hogwarts resulted in Voldemort's demise and Morgana's defeat and then Merlin and the others went back to the past.

"And then your other self showed up," said Ron with a grin.

Merlin frowned. "My _other_ self?"

"The one that naturally lived through everything," Hermione tried to elaborate.

"It's pretty complicated," Ron muttered, "but I'll give it a go."

It was then Ron's turn to explain how, while Merlin was thrust into the future, his other self that had naturally lived each day after returning to the past spent the time sleeping in some hovel in a forest. Merlin was a little confused by the whole 'two people living at the same time concept' but he did get excited when Ron told him about Arthur's reincarnation. The king had naturally been reborn and raised in the modern world – along with the others – and his memories were only restored when he'd reunited with Merlin. But then the warlock was kidnapped by Voldemort's left over followers and Morgana, now good, helped to rescue him alongside Arthur, the knights, and modern witches and wizards. Five years after that the Future King and his warlock had worked together to build Albion again, working alongside the Ministry of Magic in solving problems and battling evils together with the knights.

"You both have families," Hermione revealed. "You and Freya have an adorable daughter named Oriana and Arthur and Gwen have a wonderful son named Alexander."

Merlin's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He had a _daughter?_ Arthur and Gwen had a _son?_ An eruption of joy cascaded through his chest.

"Gwaine and Morgana are married too," Harry said with a grin.

The joy he was experiencing faltered a bit as surprise entered in. Merlin's eyes widened as he wondered, "Even though they hated each other before?"

"Apparently," Ron said with a shrug. "According to Gwaine, there was always some form of sexual tension between them but Morgana denies it."

"We all know she's lying though," Hermione chuckled before sobering. "Anyway, the point we're trying to make with all of this is that _that_ future doesn't exist anymore. The one that does is the one where you're a king and Arthur isn't reborn."

"You see, we came back too late," Harry mourned. "We should have gone back to the time when Mordred first arrived in the past and stopped him from killing Uther."

"But because we didn't, the future still isn't fixed," said Ron.

"We can't really blame your future self though," Hermione said sadly. "He didn't know the future that we did. He was so fixated on us saving Arthur from Bane that he sent us back to this time instead of before that."

Merlin sat back in his chair, stunned. "I can hardly believe any of this," he confessed.

"It's the truth though!" Harry insisted. "You have to believe us!"

Merlin frowned. As happy as he was over the thought of having a child with Freya, he really was having difficulties believing everything they'd told him. He needed to clear his head. Shoving himself away from the table, he started making his way towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked fearfully.

Merlin paused before sending them a worn smile. "You've sprung a lot on me – a lot that I frankly find hard to believe – but I don't sense evil in any of you. There's some part of me that feels the need to consider what you're saying is true. I need some time to think. Can I come back when I've sorted it all out?"

The trio shared a glance before Harry nodded. "Sure but please don't take too long. We feel like we've overstayed our welcome in the past as it is."

"We really don't belong here," Hermione said with a sad smile.

Merlin sighed. "I'll try my best to think things through. Thank you for telling me." He paused. "Is it alright if I share all of this with Arthur?"

After another glance all three of them agreed.

"He should know," Ron declared.

"But don't tell anyone else," Harry admonished.

"Not even Freya," said Hermione.

Merlin wasn't at all happy with that condition but he could understand their reasons. Meddling with any form of time was dangerous and even knowing about one's future could prove to be too much. He understood why Harry, Ron, and Hermione had shared their story and his alternate life with him – they wanted him to know what he had lost – but Merlin wasn't entirely sure that version of his life was for the best. Though the past five years had been the hardest he'd ever had to live through, Arthur had known about and accepted his magic from the day they'd met and now with Camelot reclaimed, they could start working towards uniting the kingdoms under one rule. The only thing that seemed dismal was Merlin's eventual future.

He really needed to talk to Arthur.

He found the new king as he was just finishing up with his council meeting. Arthur noticed Merlin immediately, his gaze turning to one of concern as he sensed his anxiety. As soon as the meeting was over the king stood and walked over to him, ignoring the rather miffed expressions of some of the lords that had clearly wanted to gain his attention and favor.

"What's wrong?"

Merlin shook his head. "Not here – too many ears. Is there a place we can go where we won't be disturbed?"

Arthur thought a moment before nodding. "I found a place earlier this week but you're not going to like it. It's in the lower levels where there aren't any windows."

"If it provides privacy then I'll deal with the discomfort. This can't wait," Merlin stated, surprising the king.

With raised eyebrows, Arthur nodded to him before starting down the corridor. As they descended a staircase that would take them past the dungeons, Merlin shuttered. Arthur glanced at him in concern as he lifted a torch from the wall and lit it.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"Yes," Merlin swallowed, fighting back his fears.

"Alright," Arthur muttered, walking down a corridor away from the dungeons to a set of rooms that held all manner of magical objects. "I was told that many of Bane's lesser sorcerers were given these areas to practice magic. They weren't the best with spells so the former king didn't want them to be seen wearing his colors in public until they progressed."

"Makes sense," Merlin mused. "A king is only as strong as his people."

Arthur agreed before heading into the largest chamber, a room with magical runes written into the floor in a large circle. Merlin eyed the symbols with interest.

"These are containment spells," he muttered.

"Well, this was a practice room for offensive magic," Arthur muttered. "They probably used the runes to keep the spells from blowing up the lower levels."

"If the sorcerers who used these rooms were as terrible as they say, then I think you're probably right."

Shutting the door, Arthur set to work lighting the other torches on the walls to give as much light to the area as possible. Merlin tried to ignore the instant shivering and fear of darkness that was attempting to draw him back to his days in the cave. Swallowing and thinking of everything the trio had told him, he waited until Arthur had done his work before sitting on the floor in the middle of the containment circle. Arthur joined him and then Merlin cast a spell that would make sure none could overhear their conversation.

Recognizing the spell, Arthur raised a curious brow.

"Alright, what's going on?"

Merlin reiterated the trio's tale. By the time he was finished Arthur's eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hairline.

"I have a son with Guinevere?" he whispered.

Merlin grinned despite himself. "And Freya and I have a daughter."

"I have a _son_ with _Guinevere!"_ Arthur shouted, immense joy radiating from his eyes. "Merlin _, I have a son! With Guinevere!"_

"I _know!"_ Merlin laughed but then he sobered. "But only in that other time. In the current future, I'm a king and you remain dead."

Arthur's joy instantly disappeared. "Oh. Right," he mumbled, forlorn. "So, what are we going to do?"

"That is something only you can decide."

Both men gasped and turned sharply to see an old crone standing just inside the containment circle. Merlin recognized her at once as the woman he'd met in the Crystal Cave.

"You!" he cried as he and the king rose to their feet.

"You know her?" Arthur demanded before adding to the woman, "How did you get in here?"

The old woman grinned, displaying a smile where several teeth were missing. "I suppose you don't recognize me, Arthur. Perhaps in this form…?"

The Crone melted away in a sprinkle of white brilliance, replaced by a beautiful young woman with fair skin and long blonde hair. Her blue eyes radiated with life and mischief, her dazzling grin now exhibiting perfect teeth. Merlin's jaw dropped open.

"Or maybe this will help identify me," the Maiden mused as she transformed in a burst of leaves, replaced by a woman in her prime with auburn hair and spring green eyes. Her stomach now betraying her to be great with child, she smiled and both men instantly felt the comfort that could only come from being in the presence of a mother.

Merlin, seeing all three stages, knew without doubt who this woman was. He bowed to her, showing the epitome of respect. Arthur seemed to recognize her too because he immediately followed suit.

"Rise," the Mother gently commanded before her form shifted back to that of the young blonde Maiden. The two did as she asked and she eyed them with fondness. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"No, my lady," Merlin muttered while Arthur shook his head.

"It was I who allowed the Chosen One and his friends to retain their memories and return to the past," the goddess stated.

"So it's true?" Merlin whispered, shocked. "All of it?"

The goddess's smile was sad as she nodded. "Yes, Emrys."

"Will I really be a king in the future?"

"Yes."

"And will I never come back?" Arthur hesitantly inquired.

The goddess sighed. "You will return, Arthur, but the future you are hoping for will not come to pass."

Arthur froze. "But I have a son with Guinevere in the other future! Why can't that happen here?"

"Things never happen exactly the same way twice. This is why I have ultimately come. You can choose to live the life you have currently been given or you can help the Chosen One and his friends stop Mordred and then cease to exist as the original timeline corrects itself."

"Cease to exist?" Merlin repeated, his mouth suddenly dry. "Are you saying that if we choose to help them, we'll simply fade away and be replaced by our other selves?"

"Yes," the Goddess confirmed. "That is the sacrifice."

"And if we refused?" Arthur asked.

"Then Merlin will eventually become the King of Magic until your return. The two of you will then reestablish Albion but you will do it without the friends you will make in the past."

"Or our wives and children," Merlin muttered.

The goddess nodded.

"What will become of Harry, Ron, and Hermione if we didn't change anything?" Arthur wondered.

"Their memories of the alternate timeline will disappear and they will be far different from the Harry, Ron, and Hermione you currently know."

"Wait, they won't remember helping us or being in the past at all?"

"No, Emrys, they will not."

"But surely records of them being here will survive!" Arthur argued. "Harry was the one who killed Bane after all!"

"Historical records are altered over time, young King, and though Merlin will live through those times he will not be able to prevent all of them from being tampered with. As for him and you, neither of you will remember their names or their identities. They will simply become random sorcerers who helped during the war."

"But that's not fair!" Arthur cried.

"That is the way things have to be," the goddess stated, shrugging her shoulders as if manipulating people's lives wasn't that big of a deal – which it probably wasn't since she was a goddess.

Merlin stepped forward. "Excuse me, but, do we have to make this decision now?"

The goddess studied him a moment. "Harry told you earlier that he felt they didn't belong here. That is correct; their presence has interfered with the past long enough. I will give you until noon tomorrow. Come back to this room with Harry, Ron, and Hermione at that time. Tell no one else of this – not even those you love. This decision is yours alone to make since it is your futures that will be affected by your choice."

The goddess then disappeared in a burst of light, the remaining sparks of her exit trailing towards the ground before disappearing altogether.

Merlin looked at Arthur. "It looks like we have a lot to think about."

"Yeah," the king muttered with a troubled countenance. "And we can't even ask for advice from anyone else."

Merlin sighed. "What would you rather do, Arthur? We can sit here and discuss things for the rest of the day or we can separate and later reconvene with a decision. I'll do whatever you suggest."

"Why are you leaving it up to me to decide?"

"Because you're the king," Merlin replied smugly. "It's your job to make the decisions."

Arthur scowled. "Sometimes I hate being the king."

"Well too bad," Merlin grinned. "That's the role Destiny gave you to play."

Grumbling under his breath, Arthur twisted on his heel and started to pace. Merlin had seen this many times and settled himself down to wait. It didn't take long for the king to reach a decision, however.

"We'll separate and sleep on it," he declared. "Then tomorrow morning we'll meet and share our choice."

"But what if we have different opinions?" Merlin questioned. "We only have until noon tomorrow to make an ultimate decision, Arthur."

The king frowned. "Well, if they are different, we'll give our reasons for the choice we made and sit down and debate our options until we draw the same conclusion."

Merlin took the king's proffered hand and stood up with a sigh. "Alright, you're the king. And as I said before, I'll do what you suggest. I guess I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast, sire."

Arthur sent him a solemn nod. "Until then."


	17. Chapter 17

**This is the second to last chapter, folks. It's hard to believe this journey is coming to an end. A huge thank you to all who have stuck with me so far. Please leave a review. :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 16

Arthur walked along the corridor in silence.

After separating from Merlin, the king had been sought out by various servants belonging to nobles, all of them requesting he dine with them that evening. The king had no interest in pretending to play politics when he had such heavy things on his mind. Refusing all offers, he walked into his chambers, telling his guards he was not to be disturbed unless it was Merlin, Guinevere, or his servant Garrett bringing him his dinner. Shutting the door, the king collapsed onto the huge bed and sighed heavily into the mattress. It was softer than the one he'd laid on in Nemeth and that was astonishing since he didn't think anything could compare to that bed; mattresses meant for a king proved to be better, he supposed.

"What am I to do?" he whispered aloud.

The alternate future Merlin had described sounded both terrifying and wonderful. Living in a time outside his own, his alternate self was trying to make a difference in a hostile world. But he wasn't alone in his endeavor; Merlin was there, his friends were there, Guinevere was by his side and _he had a son._ Arthur couldn't ignore that fact or the joy that accompanied it. Though he did not know Alexander, he already loved and longed to hold him in his arms. If he did not change the current timeline, that little boy would never be born. Sure, he and Guinevere might have children in this time but there would be none when he returned hundreds of years in the future. He would be reunited with Merlin but he would have lost everything else.

Merlin had also said the two of them met in their twenties during their alternate past and that Arthur didn't learn of his magic until ten years later during a great battle that nearly killed him. Could Arthur do that to Merlin – make him live a life of secrecy and heartache, having to hide who he truly was for so long? Sure, he would eventually discover the truth, but Arthur knew how he felt about people keeping secrets from him. He also knew his relationship with Merlin would be severely damaged as the seeds of mistrust and doubt from such a betrayal would be heavily sown between them. Did he want all the pain and heartache that would come from such a betrayal? He'd already experienced something similar with Ector passing away. He didn't fancy going through it again.

But if he stayed this way, he would have the upbringing of a peasant instead of a proper prince. He would have to earn the nobles respect and recognition instead of already attaining it at birth. He would have to accept the work of servants instead of considering their service to be a natural way of life. And he would have to make incredibly difficult decisions without having the foreknowledge that was given to all royalty in their tender years of trial and error.

If he changed the past and allowed himself to be erased, his other self would grow up in Camelot's halls, learning how to be a king under the tutelage of the best scholars the world could offer. He would still get to be with Guinevere – even if he had to wait until after Uther was dead to do so – and he would eventually accept Merlin's magic. He also wouldn't have to experience a period of time where Merlin was missing from his life. Morgana would be evil in the past but she would be their friend in the future. Everyone would have a second chance, a happy ending.

But the cost to reach that ending was so _great_.

There would be no one to stop Uther from murdering hundreds of people. Vengeful sorcerers would seek to destroy Camelot's peace. The people would live in constant fear of anything to do with magic during both Uther's reign and his own. The world would nearly fall apart completely before righting itself after a battle where thousands would die.

Was his happy ending really worth all of those lives?

Arthur's thoughts continued to toss through his head, the sun sinking below the horizon as he mused.

The king paced, leaned against the wall by his window, paced some more, sat for a while, and repeated the whole process. He didn't even notice the food Garrett had brought earlier until the servant returned at the usual time to take it away. Arthur was in the middle of pacing when he reentered the room.

"You have not eaten, sire. Are you unwell? Do you need a physician?"

Arthur sighed, his brain aching from all the scenarios it had tossed back and forth over the last four hours.

"No physician can cure what ails me, Garrett. I will not be able to eat this tonight. Leave the bread but take the rest away. You can have it, if you'd like; I'd rather not see such a meal go to waste."

Garrett still looked incredibly concerned as he left the bread on a napkin and gathered up the tray. "Will that be all, Sire?"

"Yes, thank you," Arthur muttered, waving him away.

Garrett inclined his head before rushing out the door. Arthur snorted. Merlin was his servant in that other world. Would he be as hesitant and timid as Garrett and the rest of them? He tried to image a timid Merlin but failed. The warlock was entirely too cheeky and free-spirited to be a bootlicker. Reassured by this small thought, Arthur plucked up the bread and ate as he returned to his muddled thoughts.

[][][]

Meanwhile, on the battlements, a certain warlock had been walking back and forth for hours – much to the confusion of the soldiers. They didn't bother him, however, since he had clearance from the king to go wherever he wished. Merlin was rather grateful for this because it gave him time to think in a place that wasn't confined or secluded. Out in the open air, with the sun in plain view, the warlock was able to give his full concentration towards the choice he had to make.

To remain here in this time would mean getting used to eating properly again and attempting to overcome a fear of being alone in dark, isolated places. He would be able to serve Arthur with his magic and help him conquer his self doubts so he could be the king he was meant to be. He would live with Freya and his friends until they died, his parents would live a life together instead of alone, and Kilgharrah would never be the last of the dragons.

They also wouldn't have to face the reality of hundreds of deaths resulting from Uther's Purge. Many lives would be saved this way. Magic was more easily accepted throughout the land so he wouldn't have to constantly live in the shadow of fear…

But his future in this world seemed so _cruel._ Everyone he knew and loved would be ripped away from him and he would have to live with the knowledge that all of them -except Arthur- would never return. Having the king by his side would bring him immense joy but Merlin felt his life wouldn't be complete without his friends and family.

In the alternate future, he didn't have to be a king but he was still Merlin, the powerful sorcerer, helping others defeat any evil that threatened to destroy his home. Camelot stood as a magic school under Arthur's command, Arthur still ruled as a king, and all their friends were there and knew who they truly were. Two dragons he'd never met would one day unite and restart the dying dragon race and Freya had given him a daughter. Thinking of the tiny child, Merlin's arms ached and he wished more than anything to hold her precious form against his chest.

He could have all of this if he gave up his life and let his alternate self live. But could he allow so many others to suffer? Was it right to allow countless men, women, and children to die in order for the future he longed for to take place? Uther murdered thousands in that other world. Their blood would cry up from the ground, a constant reminder that the only way to stop such atrocities was through the creation of Albion. Not to mention Merlin also had to consider that he would have to hide who he really was from Arthur for a long time before the eventual king would learn the truth. Could he keep such things from his King? The betrayal and lies would devastate him. Could Merlin really put Arthur through such an experience? Could he do that to himself?

And what about Morgana? The witch was happy here, living a peaceful life with Gwaine, whereas in the other world she was an evil High Priestess who sought to destroy Camelot until her rebirth in the future. Such a dark and horrible life; could he really doom her to such a fate?

Merlin let out a strangled groan, leaning back against the battlements wall and slipping down until he sat on the stone walkway. Bringing his knees to his chest, he rested his head against them and wrapped his arms around his legs. His thoughts soon brought on a headache and the warlock started to feel sick but he didn't move.

"Excuse me?"

Merlin finally looked up into the face of Sir Lancelot; the mercenaries, Elyan, and Leon had all been knighted shortly after Arthur had taken the throne.

"Sir Lancelot," Merlin cried, stumbling to his feet and wincing as his brain seemed to slam against his skull. "I did not see you there."

Sir Lancelot looked concerned as he observed him. "I imagine you wouldn't have really noticed anyone when in such a position. Are you alright? The guards informed me you've been sitting in the same place for the last three hours."

Merlin blinked, finally noticing his surroundings. The sun had long since set. "Have I really been here that long?" he quietly mused.

"I'm sorry?" the knight prompted, unable to hear his muffled question.

Merlin shook his head. "Nothing; I was just lost in thought. Um, I'll just go back to my room… good evening, sir knight."

"Merlin? Would you like an escort? You look rather unwell and Arthur's given strict orders for us to keep an eye on you."

Merlin frowned. Of course the prat had done such a thing.

"I'll be fine, thanks."

Inclining his head to the knight, the warlock turned and headed for the stairs that would take him back into the palace. Freya was waiting for him when he got back to their room, the druidess practically strangling him in her forceful embrace.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. "I've been so worried!"

Merlin smiled to try to reassure her though it didn't reach his eyes.

"I've been on the battlements. It was a really nice day and I wanted to spend it outside."

Freya's eyes narrowed. She could see right through him.

"Merlin, what is going on? Something's bothering you."

The warlock sighed, inwardly cursing.

"I'm sorry, Freya, I can't tell you. This is something Arthur and I have to figure out."

"Did he hurt you again?"

"What? No! No, he didn't. We've just been presented with a choice and only the two of us can make it. It's a really difficult decision and I can't involve anyone in helping me solve it."

"Not even me?"

"Not even you," he reluctantly answered.

Freya tried to mask her hurt as she took his hands and looked into his eyes.

"But I want to help."

"I know you do," Merlin murmured, kissing her forehead, "but this is one of those things where I really need to figure it out myself."

Freya looked as if she was going to argue again but the fight left her eyes and she quietly nodded.

"Alright; I won't press you. But you do need to eat."

The last thing he felt like doing was filling his stomach but his wife wouldn't hear any objections. So Merlin forced down the small portion of food he'd been given before he and Freya prepared for bed. As he crawled under the covers and wrapped his arms around his beautiful wife, Merlin remembered the part of his other life that Hermione had been most reluctant to share. He and Freya had not ended up marrying in the past though they were reunited in the future. Freya had died just as their love began to blossom, leaving Merlin alone for hundreds of years. He'd never get to know her in the alternate past as he knew her now. She wouldn't be there for him to come home to at the end of a hard day, he wouldn't be able to share a bed with her, and she wouldn't be there to give him the proper advice that always lifted his insecurities. Now that he had her, a life without her seemed pointless. Could he really lose her? Could he go through the pain of being separated from her for centuries before finally having her by his side?

Merlin held his dear wife close and kissed her.

"Merlin?"

He found her concerned brown eyes but he was unable to hide his inner sorrow from her. Shaking his head, he merely pulled her even closer to him.

"I love you, Freya," he whispered as tears threatened to fall from his eyes.

"I love you too," she murmured into his chest. "Are you alright?"

"No but I think I will be," he quietly answered. "Just hold me close, okay?"

"Okay," she promised, stroking his hair.

They stayed that way until Freya fell asleep. Merlin gazed upon her. Her small form was immaculate, her pale skin smooth and tantalizing to his touch. Her hair fell all around her like a halo, her long eyelashes resting against her delicate cheeks. Her full lips were slightly parted, the breath of life entering and escaping them with each steady rise and fall of her chest. As he listened to her breathe, Merlin's thoughts once more began to rage within his mind and it was within this war that he eventually fell into a very restless sleep.

[][][]

Arthur sent for him in the morning, his servant, Garrett, gently shaking him awake just after the crack of dawn. Merlin was successful in his attempt of not waking his wife as he left the bed, quickly dressed, and followed Garrett back to Arthur's chambers. The king was staring out the window when the two entered. Without looking, he dismissed Garrett and waited for Merlin to come to a stop at his side.

"Have you made your decision?" he asked.

"I have," Merlin reluctantly admitted, "though I continued to fight against it through most of the night."

Arthur turned to face him. Though dark circles clung under his eyes, his lips were pulled into a resigned smile.

"I experienced the same."

He indicated for the two of them to sit as his table. Once there, Merlin cast a silencing spell around them and turned to face his king.

"Alright, what did you decide?"

"Who said I had to go first?" Arthur groused. Merlin's frown and raised eyebrow made the king sigh before giving in. "Alright, fine. It wasn't easy," he muttered, resting his lips against his threaded fingers, "but, after hours of going through all the pros and cons, I came to the realization that this life we're living was a mistake to begin with. The timeline Harry, Ron, and Hermione are from is the original and I feel that we would be tampering with Destiny and Fate if we decided to have things remain the way they currently are."

"So you want to cease to exist?" Merlin asked.

"For the greater good of all Albion, yes," Arthur whispered with a heavy countenance. "I understand that hundreds of people will die during my father's Purge but the world that we will build after his rule sounds like the kind of Camelot I would wish to live in. Besides, look at me, Merlin. I have no clue how to be a king – I don't even know how to ride a horse! Besides, it would take years to catch me up on all the lessons and training I should have learned as a prince. And I wouldn't doubt people would take advantage of my naivety, whispering 'counsel' that would actually lead me and Camelot into a compromising position. I feel that while I am very inept to take on the role of the Once and Future King, my other self seems to have been training for it since birth. He will be much more equipped to lead the people towards Albion than I ever will be."

Merlin sighed, holding his head in his hands.

"Merlin," Arthur quietly prodded, "what did you decide?"

The warlock looked up with a forlorn smile.

"The same as you. The other world will bring about everything we long for while this one will only establish that in this lifetime. If we stayed in this timeline, I would see you again in the future but everyone else would be nothing but memory. I love you, Arthur, and would be immensely happy to have you by my side again but a life without Freya… without my family…"

Arthur rested a hand over Merlin's. "I know," he whispered. "I feel the same. In the alternate world we have it all in both the past and the future."

"But so many will suffer and die in the Purge," Merlin mourned. "Can we really do that to them?"

"Sacrifice is required for Albion to be. Those people will not be the only ones who suffer. We won't know each other as we do now. You'll be my servant and will have to hide who you really are for years. I won't be able to live as freely as I have in this time, bound by laws and customs of the nobility. I won't be able to be with Guinevere until after Uther is gone."

"And I won't be with Freya until the future," Merlin muttered, his eyes welling up with tears. "So much heartache… can I really bring myself to live with that?"

Arthur squeezed Merlin's hand. "Merlin, look at me. You know this is the right choice. We both do."

Merlin nodded. Though he hated to admit it, Arthur was right. The moment he'd made his decision last night, a wave of peace washed over him – the same peace that was filling his breast right now. Wiping away his tears, Merlin smiled.

"It's the right thing to do," he admitted.

Arthur smiled sadly. "It really is."

The two sat in silence for a moment more before the warlock asked, "Now what?"

Arthur stood, suddenly looking nervous. "I would suggest you spend the time with those you love until about a quarter to noon. That's what I plan to do."

Merlin's eyes narrowed a little as a small grin began to climb his cheeks. "Are you going to find Gwen?"

Arthur's cheeks burned and he couldn't meet Merlin's gaze as he mumbled, "Perhaps."

"Arthur, are you going to…?"

"Wouldn't you?" the king defensively snapped. "Unlike you, I've never had the experience – I never allowed myself to since I was reserving it for someone special – and if this is to be the last day of my existence then I don't want to leave it without being with Guinevere in every way possible."

"Normally I would urge you to wait until after you were married but given the circumstances… have fun then."

Merlin stood and started for the door.

"Merlin?"

The warlock turned to see Arthur looking rather pitiful, his expression filled with unease, his entire face as red as his shirt.

"Could you maybe… give me some advice concerning the matter…?"

Merlin would have laughed under any other circumstance but he'd once been where Arthur was now. Making such a huge step in a relationship was both exciting and terrifying, especially when it was one's first time. Gazing fondly at his King, Merlin walked back over to the table and sat down.

[][][]

Arthur's heart was in his throat. He'd had breakfast with his brothers – Kay had arrived in Camelot shortly after it had been reclaimed – and now he was walking down the corridor to the Physician's Chambers where he knew Guinevere would be helping Gaius and Alice prepare potions and bandages for future patients; the chambers had been rather poorly stocked, the previous physician using nothing but magic to cure everyone's ills.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer. After discussing things with Merlin, he decided he wanted to marry Guinevere before making love to her; it just didn't feel right to do so otherwise. Merlin suggested having Geoffrey of Monmouth marry them in secret since the librarian and historian had the rights to perform such ceremonies. Arthur had sent for him at once, explaining his plan, and more or less forcing the man into complying with his wishes. While Geoffrey was horrified to be performing such a ceremony without the usual fanfare involved, he'd agreed under Arthur's piercing glare.

Now all the king had to do was get the woman he loved to agree to marry him on such short notice.

Easier said than done!

Hyperventilating, Arthur forced away his nerves and pushed the door open. The smell of herbs caught his nostrils, reminding him of childhood memories studying how to read and write under Gaius's watchful eye. Standing in the middle of the room, her hands working on separating several herbs into piles, was his sweet Guinevere. She wore pink today, the beautiful dress hugging her curves, embroidered in rich pastel flowers. Her hair fell loosely down her back, the long curls catching the sunlight and giving off a slightly reddish tint within the natural brown hues.

She was the picture of perfection.

Arthur forgot how to breathe.

Guinevere's large brown eyes filled with joy as she caught sight of him. Wiping her hands on a cloth, she crossed the distance between them and kissed him in greeting. Had Arthur been unable to breathe before? Because now he knew he wasn't; his head was spinning.

"Arthur, are you alright?" she wondered.

"Marry me," he whispered.

"What?"

Arthur shook himself. _Come on, you idiot, you need to make it more romantic than that!_

Getting down on one knee, he took her hands within his own and stared up into her angelic face.

"Guinevere, I love you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

The maiden gasped, her eyes filling with tears as a smile lifted her adorable cheeks. "Arthur..."

She paused, clearly needing a moment to compose herself. Arthur waited with baited breath...

"Yes," she whispered, "with all my heart, _yes!"_

Relief and joy washed through the king, giddy laughter escaping him before he schooled his features and pulled out the ring Merlin had made for him not even two hours ago. Slipping it over Guinevere's finger, he pushed himself to his feet and kissed her, spinning her around and laughing with joy. After the moment of elation had passed for both of them, Arthur caressed the side of her face and looked into her soul.

"Would you marry me now, this very moment?" he whispered, love and longing expressed in his gaze.

 _"Now?"_

Taking her hands, Arthur kept his gaze locked on hers.

"Please, Guinevere, grant me this," he murmured. "There is nothing that I want more than to have you by my side. I don't want to wait."

"But you're a king," she countered. "If you weren't, I wouldn't hesitate, but such an event should be shared and celebrated with the people."

"Guinevere, I just want this to be us. No titles, no responsibilities, no thronging crowds – just us."

The maiden's eyebrows drew together in concern, hesitation written all over her delicate features.

"Arthur, this is all rather sudden. Do you think it wise for us to do this? Don't get me wrong, I want to, but what will the people say?"

Arthur raised her hands and kissed them.

"They know how much I love you. I feel they would support us no matter if we married now or in ten years. All I know, Guinevere, is that I would rather not spend another night alone. I want you in my life, forever. Will you grant me the privilege of becoming your husband today and always?"

Hearing such a profound declaration of love, Guinevere's concerns were cast to the wayside and she nodded her consent.

"Of course," she tenderly complied.

Arthur's heart burst within his chest and he found himself kissing her again.

"Thank you, Guinevere," he whispered into her hair. "Thank you."

He led her to his chambers where Geoffrey and Merlin were waiting for them, the latter as a witness (and because Arthur made him promise that he would be at his wedding). The king and his betrothed kept breaking into excited giggles, the two completely ignorant that their behavior was being observed by every guard, nobleman, and servant in the palace. Arthur could care less what they thought at this point. As far as he was concerned, this was his last chance to be with the woman he loved and he wasn't about to waste it.

Reaching his chambers, the king pushed the doors open and ordered the guards to not let anyone disturb them. The two shared a rather surprised glance before nodding at their sovereign, remaining steadfastly at their post. Geoffrey looked highly uncomfortable, standing there with Merlin grinning next to him.

Guinevere swatted Arthur on the arm. "You were planning this?"

The king shrugged. "Since this morning, truth be told. Merlin is here to act as witness."

"I have to say I've supported this from the moment I learned about it," the warlock grinned before giving Guinevere a hug.

"Thank you, Merlin," she smiled.

"Shall we proceed?" Geoffrey asked, frowning in disapproval.

"Yes," Arthur muttered, taking his beloved by the hand. "Geoffrey, thank you for doing this."

"It is against my better judgment but you must have your reasons," the historian sniffed.

"I do, believe me," Arthur assured.

"Then let us begin."

The ceremony was short and sweet, Arthur and Guinevere exchanging a vow to love each other from now until the end of time. A passionate kiss was shared, a promise of discretion was given by Geoffrey, and best wishes were expressed by a very energetic warlock.

After hugging Guinevere, Merlin embraced the king.

"The sleeping draft is in the jug on your bedside table," he whispered as they pulled away. "Give it to her immediately when you're done and wait til she's asleep before you leave. We don't want her thinking you've abandoned her - especially after what you're about to do."

Arthur lightly punched Merlin's arm. "I would never leave her to think such a thing!" he murmured, glancing at his wife as she bid goodbye to a rather peeved Geoffrey.

Wife.

Guinevere was his _wife._

Merlin chuckled, regaining his attention. Patting the king on the shoulder, his eyes sparkled with happiness and joy. "I'm happy for you, Arthur. But, remember, you only have an hour."

"I know," he sighed. "I'll meet you down there. Make sure you bring Harry, Ron, and Hermione with you."

"I will," Merlin promised.

Pausing at the door, the warlock turned to look back at the couple. His eyes flashed gold before a cheeky grin lit his face.

"Have fun!" he called before leaving the two newlyweds alone.

Arthur, wondering what Merlin had just done, turned to see that the warlock had covered the room and bed in red rose petals, closing the curtains and conjuring countless candles that bathed the room in a rich golden glow. Guinevere gasped and then sighed in happiness. Arthur made a mental note to thank his warlock for such foresight.

Slipping his hands around Guinevere's stomach, he kissed the side of her neck.

"Shall we, my queen?"

Guinevere slowly spun around, her cheeks flushing a lovely shade of pink.

"Of course, my king," she answered shyly.

Arthur lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

Whatever happened at the end of this day, this moment would be the one he remembered. Arthur allowed himself to forget about the worries of the future, focusing instead on the thing that mattered most: his love for this divine creature he'd had the fortune of rescuing all those days ago. She was beautiful then and she was beautiful now.

She lay on the bed, her eyes bright and her smile warm, excitement causing her chest to rise and fall in rapid succession. Arthur immediately set to work removing her bodice, his fingers shaking a bit as he untied the strings keeping it together. The process took longer than he would have liked but the thing eventually came off, a cry of triumph escaping his lips as he tossed it aside before Guinevere rewarded him with a kiss. Removing his shirt, he hovered over her, drinking in her magnificent skin.

"That such beauty should desire me," he murmured as he kissed her, "what have I done to be favored so highly by the gods?"

Guinevere smiled before forcing him on top of her, kissing him with an amount of passion that left him breathless. Her tongue slipped over his lower lip and the king inwardly groaned with pleasure before allowing her to further explore. Now unhindered by any law, Arthur's hands freely discovered every inch of her body, enjoying every curve, reveling in the fact that he alone had the privilege of being able to do so. Before long, the two of them lay without the hindrance of clothing, their eyes and hands gliding over their bodies in a desire to commit every ounce of exquisite beauty to memory.

Arthur felt like the luckiest man alive as he studied the woman he loved. She was superb, a diamond like none other, his queen in every sense of the word. Grinning, he wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her with all the love he could muster and soon the two climbed to the realms of passion that had once been nothing but fantasy, completing their desires in utter ecstasy and reveling in the joy they had created together.

[][][]

Arthur lay in what he could only describe as heaven. Guinevere lay beside him, breathing heavily but with a satisfied smile. The experience had been better than anything the king had imagined and he was sorely tempted to repeat the process – but he didn't have time since it was nearly noon. Inwardly groaning that he had to set aside his desires, Arthur poured the sleeping draft into a goblet Merlin had left next to the jug.

"Here," he offered.

"Thank you," she smiled, immediately emptying the cup's contents.

Arthur filled the cup again and pretended to drink himself before wiping his mouth and turning to watch as his wife began to drift to sleep. He lay down next to her, kissing her cheek.

"This was the happiest moment of my life," he stated, running his hand through her curls. "I will cherish it for the rest of my days."

"And may there be many more moments to add so you can have more to cherish," Guinevere said with a sleepy smile.

Arthur kept the sadness from his eyes as he tenderly gazed down on her. "Indeed."

The queen slipped into the realm of dreams and the king made sure to cover her body before slipping out of bed and quickly donning his clothes. Securing Excalibur to his side, he returned to the bed and kissed Guinevere with all the strength and passion he could muster.

"You have my heart, Guinevere," he whispered. "You always will… I love you... Thank you for making the last day of my life one to remember."

He then left the room. Ordering the guards again to not let anyone enter his chambers, he set off at a leisure walk, ignorant that the two men were sharing knowing grins behind him. Once around the corner, he broke into a run, hastening down many corridors and ignoring the shocked faces of everyone he passed. Reaching the stairs to the dungeons, he took them two at a time before nearly falling on his face in his haste to turn the corner. Running flat out down the dark passage, he reached his destination and threw open the door.

"With two minutes to spare; you were cutting it a little close, Arthur."

"Shut up… Merlin," Arthur gasped, bending over to regain control of his breathing.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked in concern.

"I'll be fine," Arthur answered. "Did you… explain?" he asked, staring at Merlin.

The warlock shook his head. "I thought I'd wait for you."

Breath now under control, Arthur stood straight and shut the door behind him, bathing them in the light of the torches Merlin had lit earlier. "Alright, then let's get this over with."

"Um, what exactly is going on?" Harry asked nervously.

"Arthur and I have come to the decision to cease to exist," Merlin revealed.

Ron stared. "You dragged us down here to tell us you were planning on committing suicide?"

Hermione hit him over the head. "No, Ron! They're going to send us back to stop Mordred from killing Uther, thus destroying this timeline and themselves all together."

"Oh," Ron muttered, rubbing his head.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Harry asked, his green eyes filled with concern as well as hope. "We don't want you to make this decision for our sakes."

"We've had an entire day to think about it, Harry," said Arthur, "and both of us separately drew to the same conclusion that it would be for the good of Albion if the original timeline were restored."

"Then allow me to send you back," someone said from the corner of the room.

Everyone jumped as the Triple Goddess shuffled out of the darkness, the Crone sending them a satisfied smile as she leaned against her staff. Recognizing her, Arthur and Merlin bowed, the trio quickly following suit.

"I knew you'd make the right choice," she said as she gazed upon Arthur and Merlin.

"Excuse me, my lady," said Hermione hesitantly, "Did you know that we would be sent back here?"

"Of course I did," the Crone chuckled. "How do you think you three kept your memories from the alternate time while everyone else forgot? I foresaw this happening before it was even a reality."

"Then why did you even allow it to occur?" Harry demanded. "Why make us come back to a time where we still wouldn't have fixed the future?"

"There are many reasons things happen the way they do, Harry Potter," she answered. "I am not at liberty to explain them to you. Now, are you ready to stop Mordred from ruining the future?"

"Of course," Hermione declared.

"Good," the Crone praised. "Emrys and the Once and Future King will accompany you."

"But… they'll be out of their timeline," Harry pointed out.

"Don't worry, Harry," Arthur said with a sad smile. "The goddess already informed us of what will happen."

"Emrys," the Crone called, beckoning to the warlock. Merlin approached her. The Crone placed a gnarled hand over his forehead and whispered in the language of the Old Religion. "That is the spell required to send them home. I have given you all the power you will need in order to complete it even though your body is weak."

"Thank you, my lady," Merlin murmured, bowing to her.

The Crone turned to the others. "Mordred is powerful and cunning. His magic is as dark and formidable as that of the High Priestess Morgana in the original world. Do not underestimate him but also do not kill him. Use these" – she produced a pair of golden rune cuffs the likes of which none of them had ever seen – "to bind him. Emrys will then use his magic to send you into the future where his future self will know what to do with the former druid."

Being the only one without magic in the group, Arthur alone was comfortable taking the rune cuffs and securing them in his pocket. The five of them then gathered together and the Triple Goddess pointed her old, withered hands toward them.

"Restore the future," she ordered with a smile before her eyes turned a brilliant gold.

A circle of wind whipped up around them like a funnel, white light erupting from the ground, blocking them from the goddess's view. Arthur had never experienced this form of magical transport before. It was gentle, soothing, and protective. The stone floor beneath his feet transformed to that of grass and the pillar of light engulfing them vanished, covering them instantly in the shadow of night. Slightly disoriented but not feeling even remotely sick, Arthur drew Excalibur and forced his senses to concentrate on the world around him. They were in an unfamiliar forest. The trees were rather thick, the sounds of a steady stream running out of view a few yards ahead.

"Where are we?" Ron asked.

Merlin immediately commanded him to be quiet. Arthur sent him an inquiring glance.

"I sense something," the warlock whispered.

No sooner had he spoken that a man materialized out of thin air several paces in front of them. Arthur was intrigued by his clothes. They were similar to the styles Hermione had shown of the future during their brief stay in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. The man's black curls were short, his gray eyes and sinister smile expressing triumph as he pulled out a wooden stick. Tossing a golden object into the air, he pointed the stick at it and cast a spell. The effect was staggering. Not only did his spell obliterate the object but it completely demolished the stick he was holding, the blast sending him flying through the trees only to land ten feet away.

"Is he dead?" Arthur wondered after getting over his shock from the display.

"Probably not," answered Merlin. "His magic is incredibly powerful. It would take more than a backfired spell to kill that kind of sorcerer. Though I have to wonder what he was using just now."

Harry and Ron shared a snicker before the latter muttered, "He tried to use his wand. Something similar happened to me when we first arrived here."

"Come on," Harry whispered, "if there's ever a chance to catch him off guard, it's now."

"Be careful," Hermione warned.

The five of them rushed forward just as Mordred was beginning to recover. Now that he was closer, Arthur deduced that he was a lot younger than the man Harry had killed; he looked as if he'd just barely come of age, truth be told.

"We would have warned you not to use your wand," Ron sneered, "but it was more fun watching your magic explode in your face!"

Mordred's eyes widened in both fear and anger when he recognized them.

"You followed me!"

"Yes and no," Harry answered, "But we're not going to bother explaining _. Expelliarmus!"_

Mordred was blown backwards, his body slamming into the tree behind him. Arthur thrust Excalibur up against his throat.

"I'd stay down if I were you."

Mordred glared up at him in hatred, not in the least bit perturbed by his current predicament.

"Your sword may be powerful," he paused, his eyes flashing hungrily for blood, "but mine is just as formidable!"

A sword hiding within the confines of his cloak flew out of the shadows, striking Arthur unexpectedly in the stomach. Shocked and surprised, the king stumbled backward, Excalibur falling from his numb fingers into the dirt.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried in horror, catching him before he lost his balance.

Mordred raised his hand, preparing to curse the two of them with a sadistic grin but Harry, Ron, and Hermione took action before he could.

" _Expelliarmus!"_

" _Impedimenta!"_

" _Incarcerus!"_

The three spells hit their mark and Mordred's body froze in place before flying backward with extraordinary force. He reconnected with the tree and slumped to the ground before conjured ropes quickly snaked around his taunt limbs. Once secured, he remained near the roots in a crumpled heap, unmoving.

"I think we might have killed him," Ron muttered, concerned.

Harry went over to observe the body. "No, he's just knocked out."

"Arthur, hang on," Merlin cried, regaining the trio's attention. He was holding the king's wound as blood leaked through his fingers. "I can save you."

Arthur shook his head, trying to smile though he feared it look more like a grimace.

"No, Merlin… there's no point. You need to use the magic the goddess gave you… to send them back… we need to complete the mission."

He reached a shaking hand into his pocket and pulled out the golden cuffs.

"Here…"

Instead of touching them, Merlin's eyes glowed gold, the warlock directing the manacles over to where Mordred still lay bound and unconscious. Hermione removed the rope she'd conjured and the cuffs slipped into place over Mordred's wrists, effectively binding him and his magic. The trio gathered around the king who still lay dying in the arms of his warlock.

"Help rebuild Albion," he weakly commanded, staring up at them.

"We will," Harry solemnly promised.

Hermione started to cry.

"This is goodbye, isn't it? When we leave, you'll both…"

"Yes, Hermione," Merlin said, tears trailing down his cheeks. "Promise us our sacrifice will not be in vain."

"We'll do everything we can to protect the future the two of you are trying to build," she promised.

" _Everything,"_ Ron assured with a firm nod.

"Thank you," Arthur murmured. "Now, _go!_ Quickly…"

Harry threw Mordred's limp body over his shoulder and gathered close next to Ron and Hermione.

"We'll never forget you," Hermione stated, her tears sliding down her cheeks. "We'll make sure that everyone knows about the men you were in this timeline as well as our own."

Merlin and Arthur shared a smile. The king nodded to his warlock. Merlin removed the neckerchief Gwen had made for him and passed it to them.

"So you'll have a way to remember us," he whispered.

Hermione accepted the token, clutching it closely to her chest.

"We'll cherish it, Merlin," she tearfully promised. "Thank you."

The warlock inclined his head and stretched out his hand.

 _ **"Edcierr æt sé andweardnes fram behwon ðú cwoni. Bétan sé tíd! Fæstnian sé tóweardnes! Síþ!"**_

His eyes flared with gold and the four time travelers simply vanished, the space where they once stood now devoid and empty. Arthur turned his heavy gaze back to his warlock, grasping his forearm.

"Are you ready… old friend?" he whispered hoarsely, his eyes losing focus.

Merlin's hand nearly crushed his fingers as he nodded through his tears.

"Yes."

"They'll make a better world… than we ever could," the king assured, coughing slightly.

"I'm sure they will. Still, I think you would have done just fine."

Arthur weakly chuckled, shaking his head.

"Maybe."

As his body began to shut down, there were so many things he wanted to say but knew he would never have enough time to express them. So instead he lifted his hand and weakly ruffled Merlin's hair.

"Hopeless idiot," he whispered fondly.

Merlin laughed through his tears, resting his forehead against the king's royal brow.

"Pompous prat."

The trees were the only witnesses as the two men slowly faded away, their existence becoming nothing but memory in the minds of three remarkable sorcerers as the past corrected itself, slipping into the original timeline it was always meant to be.

And somewhere, far away, a goddess shed a bittersweet tear.

* * *

 **Spell meaning:** Return to the time from whence you came. Restore the past! Secure the future! Go!


	18. Chapter 18

**A huge thank you to J.H.W., koala789, sweetprincessmano, and MagicInTheStars for your consistent reviews and dedication in reading this fic. You guys really kept me going when there were times I wanted to give up on this story. Thank you to everyone else who has favorited, left the occasional review, and followed this work. You also added to my determination to see this story reach its end. I couldn't have done it without you all. :)**

 ***SPOILER WARNING: MENTIONS OF HARRY POTTER AND THE CURSED CHILD APPEAR IN THIS CHAPTER***

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 17

One of Hogwarts' humble owls had successfully captured its victim within its talons when the forest surrounding it was disturbed by an explosion of raw magical power. The owl screeched. Releasing the mouse and taking to the air, it flapped its wings as hard as it could towards the castle, dinner entirely forgotten.

Harry immediately dropped Mordred onto the forest floor and looked around, his eyes adjusting to the shadowy forest illuminated by a pitiful amount of sunlight above their heads. He raised his hand.

" _Lumos."_

Nothing happened. Trying to ignore the immense disappointment shriveling his wayward heart, he stared forlornly at Ron and Hermione. The two sent him a pitiful smile.

"I can't feel it anymore either, if that's what you're wondering," Hermione lamented.

"It's sad," Ron murmured. "Part of me wants to cry."

"I know. I wonder if Merlin can still feel it," Harry sighed as he removed his wand from his right boot.

Hermione reached down and lifted her skirt a bit to pull hers out of a secret pocket she'd sewn into the inner lining. For the first time she looked at the thin piece of wood with a disappointed frown.

"I never thought I'd be so sad to hold my own wand," she whispered.

Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "At least we can still use magic, right?"

"Yes but your wand was destroyed, Ron," Hermione pointed out.

The redhead shrugged. "I'll get a new one; won't be the first time. Say, wait 'til Ollivander hears how I broke _this_ one!"

The three shared a pleasant laugh before deciding to head back up to the castle; with how many times they'd tromped around the Forbidden Forest, they knew exactly where they were. Checking to make sure Mordred was still unconscious, Harry threw him over his shoulder again before following Ron and Hermione down the small animal trail leading to Hogwarts. They emerged from the forest about twenty minutes later, the familiar spires and towers of Hogwarts castle clearly visible in the sunlight of a clear autumn morning. The trio took a moment to take everything in.

"I know we only saw the place for a week but I can see Camelot behind all the additions," Harry commented.

"Yeah," Ron muttered. "It's way different but the heart of the place is still the same."

"I think we're starting to get an idea of how Merlin feels," Hermione sighed as they strolled up the lawn towards the great oak doors. "He's always telling us that the castle and surrounding land are not as grand as they used to be."

"Well, the lack of magic in the air is definitely something to mourn over," Harry said, slightly grunting under Mordred's weight.

"Do you need help carrying him, mate?"

"Thanks, Ron, but I think I've got it. We're almost there anyway."

Reaching the steps, Ron and Hermione rushed ahead to push open the doors, allowing Harry and his current burden to pass. The sounds of noise and laughter from the Great Hall halted Harry's progress; he really didn't want to cause another scene in front of the students. There was also a part of him that was afraid the future was still messed up. Lowering Mordred's body down and propping it against the wall, he turned to his two best friends.

"What if the future isn't fixed?" he asked. "What if we're not even in the right time again?"

"Oriana, slow down!" a little boy shouted. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

"Look out!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had enough time to duck before a broomstick zoomed right past where their heads had previously been. A giggling two year old turned the small broom back to face her friend who was still running towards the airborne child with a concerned look on his dark face. Shoving his blonde curls aside, Alexander began to admonish Oriana for her carelessness.

"You can't just go stealing from the school broom closet and bewitching broomsticks! Those aren't like the ones they ride in real Quidditch games!"

"Mommy says my magic is almost as strong as Daddy's," Oriana countered, "and that means I can easily make anything fly that I want – even _you!"_

"There won't be any need for that," a new voice said and both Oriana and Alexander stiffened immediately as Merlin came striding towards them with a furrowed brow. "Kids, what did I tell you? Now isn't the best time to be wandering off – Harry? Ron? Hermione? What are you three doing here?" he then noticed the slumped form of Mordred behind them and his eyes widened to the size of dragon eggs. "Holy -!" he cried _. "Mordred!"_

"We're back," Harry grinned, turning to face Ron and Hermione.

" _We're back!"_ they cried, hugging each other tightly.

"What are you talking about? And why are you wearing those clothes?" Merlin asked. "What is going on here?"

"It's a long story," Harry laughed, turning back to him. "Perhaps you should call a meeting."

Merlin studied them for a moment. "Alright; but first I'm hauling _this_ off to Azkaban." With a disgusted frown, he reached down to pick Mordred up and then noticed the rune cuffs. "What…?"

"They're from the Triple Goddess," Hermione explained. "She made them specially."

Merlin stared. "You three have a lot of explaining to do – but don't start until I get back. Oriana, get off that broomstick before you break your neck – and Alexander, don't let her do anything reckless while I'm gone."

The warlock then grasped Mordred by the wrist and Channeled away.

Oriana dismounted the broomstick at once, her lip sticking out in a pout. "Daddy's no fun."

"Why are you wearing those clothes, Uncle Harry?" asked Alexander.

Harry looked down at his tunic and trousers and shrugged. "It used to be the style."

"MERLIN! Where has that idiot gotten off to?" King Arthur had come charging out of the Great Hall. "Can't even trust him to find two children. MERLIN! Oh – Harry? What on earth are you, Ron, and Hermione wearing?"

"Hello, Arthur," Harry grinned as Hermione and Ron beamed at the sight of the king. "It's really good to see you."

"Alive and well," Hermione added as a tear ran down her cheek.

Merlin suddenly reappeared in the Entrance Hall, a light breeze ruffling everyone's clothes before he rounded on the trio with a penetrating stare.

"Explain," he commanded.

Harry shook his head. "Not until everyone's together."

"Explain what?" Arthur asked, highly confused.

"How they ended up here with Mordred unconscious in chains given to them by the Triple Goddess," Merlin answered.

Arthur stared. "Wait – _what?"_

Merlin lifted his hand and sent several miniature versions of his Patronus – which was usually a gigantic dragon – throughout the castle. "We'll get the full story in a minute, Arthur. Come on; I told everyone to meet us in the staffroom."

They didn't have to wait long before the room filled with the Camelotians and the few members of the Order of the Phoenix who worked at the school that weren't currently teaching.

"Are you _finally_ going to tell us what the urgent message is, Merlin?" asked Morgana a little testily now that everyone had arrived; he'd refused to say anything until the last person, Professor Sprout, entered the room.

The warlock turned to Harry; _'go ahead'_ his eyes seemed to say. Harry nodded to him before beginning the tale, Ron and Hermione each sharing portions from the strange timeline they'd woken up to until the last moments they spent with the other Arthur and Merlin.

A shocked silence filled the room for what felt like an eternity.

"They wanted us to take this," Hermione muttered, setting the other Merlin's blue neckerchief on the table in front of the warlock, "to remember them and their sacrifice. I think you should have it, Merlin."

Merlin picked it up with a bittersweet smile. "At least now I know why I collect these," he muttered.

"I've always said you were a hoarder, Merlin," Arthur teased as the warlock began to pull a long strand of neckerchiefs from his sleeve - clearly stuffed there magically - until he got to the end.

Harry stared. "I've seen countless muggles use that magic trick."

Merlin snorted as he tied his newest prize to the end of the long strand of multicolored neckwear. "Please, where do you think they got the idea from?"

 _"You_ invented that?" Hermione wondered, surprised.

Merlin's eyes flashed with amusement. "It wasn't originally intended as a magic trick. This was just an idea I had to keep them from getting lost."

"By stuffing them up your shirt sleeve?" Ron asked, bewildered.

Merlin frown as several people snickered. "Is it a crime to keep one's prized possessions on their immediate person with a secret expendable charm up their sleeve?"

"Expendable charms are technically illegal."

"Oh, shut up, Arthur."

"Excuse me, _Mer_ lin, but I'm the one who gives the orders around here."

Alexander broke the banter by pulling on his father's tunic.

"Daddy, if your clothes are ancient, why do you still wear them sometimes? Doesn't that make you really old?"

There was a round of chuckles as Arthur, suddenly finding himself a little flustered, answered his son.

"I'm older than you may think, son. And, as for the clothes, well, I like them," he hedged.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who likes to hoard things," Merlin grinned.

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur groused though his eyes were twinkling.

"Merlin, you told us that Old magic always trumps New," Hermione interrupted before he could further insult the king.

"I always thought that to be the case," the warlock admitted.

"But Morgana told us that we were strong enough to be considered High Priests and Hermione a High Priestess," Ron argued. "How is that possible?"

Merlin frowned. "Perhaps… Everything evolves, correct? Perhaps the magic used today is actually an evolved form of the Old Religion but it's not as powerful as the ancient spells because of the state that the Earth is in. You said the second you returned here that you couldn't feel the presence of magic?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a heavy frown. "It was really sad. Can _you_ feel it?"

Merlin sent him a sad smile. "I can always feel it, Harry, but I'm all that's left of the Old Religion – besides Aithusa and Altiore."

"Have you ever tried using New magic without a wand?" asked Hermione.

Merlin shook his head. "It never crossed my mind to try. I always thought the New could only be controlled with a wand and since I can't use those, I just stuck with the Old ways."

"Well, given what Harry, Ron, and Hermione have just shared, why don't you give it a go?" suggested Arthur, curiosity stirring in his eyes.

The ancient warlock shrugged before holding up his hand.

"Alright."

"Just try to do something simple," Harry warned. "The Reductor Curse ended up destroying a huge portion of Camelot's outer wall and I don't think any of us want you to blow a hole in the castle."

"Good point," Merlin muttered. "Right, how about we try… _Lumos."_

Harry had stared straight into the sun many times during multiple Quidditch practices, each encounter leaving him temporarily blinded and teary-eyed. The effect he was experiencing now was exactly the same as the swirling ball of energy in Merlin's hand acted like a miniature sun without the heat, everyone crying out and shielding their eyes as the room was bathed in an explosion of unimaginable light.

" _Merlin! Turn it off! Turn it off!"_ Arthur shouted frantically somewhere to Harry's left.

The warlock hastily obeyed. _"Nox!"_ he cried.

The light immediately disappeared, leaving Harry blind.

"Is anyone else unable to see anything?" asked Lancelot, slightly panicked.

There was a round of frightened cries as everyone said yes. Merlin apologized several times before Arthur told him to shut up and then suggested they all stand still for a moment to see if their vision would naturally return. Harry blinked rapidly several times before he was able to make out shapes that eventually turned into people. It was with great relief that he looked around at the others who held similar expressions to his own.

Gwaine whistled. "Well, I guess that solves the question whether or not Merlin can use New magic."

The warlock himself was staring at his hand in a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. The look on his face reminded Harry of how he'd felt when discovering he had magic for the first time.

"Merlin? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed before a grin as wide as the Cheshire cat's spread across his face. "I've used magic my whole life but I've _never_ felt it like this before. It's ten times stronger than any ancient spell I have ever done! And the _feeling_ – I can't describe it!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione grinned in understanding.

"There's nothing like it," Harry agreed.

"It's euphoric," Hermione tried to explain to the others, "Like you've entered a state of happiness comparable to paradise."

"Oh, so like how I feel when I'm drunk," Gwaine mused.

Morgana swatted his chest while several people laughed.

"I think it might be better than that, Gwaine," Merlin chuckled.

"And you've never tried to use it before," said Arthur, shaking his head in consternation. "You've been around for _hundreds of years_ and it never crossed your mind to try it? You are a _wonder,_ Merlin."

Merlin sent his king a playful glare. "Being an elite warrior, if you had to choose between using a sword and using a dagger in battle which one would you settle for, Arthur? I've always seen the New magic as a dagger – of course I would never use it when I have the Old to work with!"

Seeing that they were about to witness another full on banter session, Morgana intervened. "While this is a wonderful discovery, I'm more concerned about where Mordred is."

"Oh, I threw him in Azkaban," Merlin answered.

"And do you think they'll be able to keep him there?" Guinevere asked, worried.

Merlin's smile was dark as he replied, "There's no need to fear him or what he can do, Gwen. The rune cuffs he's bound in are more than enough to contain him but I did lock the miserable little snake in the highest security cell the prison had to offer – and I secured the locks with a blood spell. I'm the only one who can enter or exit the room. He's not going anywhere."

Harry shuttered from the cold malice dripping from Merlin's tone as well as Mordred's imprisonment. The warlock's true wrath was not something anyone should dare kindle unless they were insane; Harry would rather fight Voldemort a thousand times over than face Merlin's ire.

"I still can't believe how much the future changed just because Mordred killed Uther," Leon muttered.

"What I can't believe is that Arthur wasn't the cocky, courageous prat we all know and love," Merlin said, grinning as the king glared at him.

"Like you weren't a nervous wreck yourself, _Mer_ lin," he snapped. "You would think that being so in tune with your magic would have given you the capability to recognize who I really was. But no – I had to _tell_ you!"

"According to Harry, our other selves were really young when the bond was formed," Merlin defended. "I probably didn't remember it happening _and_ I didn't know I was Emrys until I was ten in that timeline! Besides, it took at least four months in this one before I felt it between us and I was eighteen when we met!"

"Excuses, excuses," Arthur grinned.

Merlin scowled. "Clotpole."

"Idiot."

"Dollophead."

"Barmy old codger."

" _Enough_ – both of you!" Freya snapped, her eyes flashing in annoyance. " _Honestly_ , you're both grown men – _you're older than all of us, Merlin!_ – and yet you still bicker like eleven year old _school boys_. Give it a rest and _grow up already!"_

Merlin and Arthur weren't the only ones shocked by her snippy outburst. Gwen looked rather concerned as she studied her friend but Morgana let out a giggle.

"Usually Gwen is the one telling them off," she laughed. "You must be in real trouble, Merlin, if Freya's snapping at you. Come to think of it, she's been doing that a lot lately."

Merlin looked befuddled, his eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to fathom the reason behind his wife's current outburst and others she'd made in the past.

"I didn't do something wrong… did I?"

Freya's anger slipped away in an instant, her countenance changing to one of apology as she sighed.

"No, it's not you. I guess this is as good a time as any – heaven knows we need some _good_ news after everything Mordred tried to do – Merlin, we're going to have another baby."

The warlock's mouth dropped open and then the room filled with shouts of congratulations. Oriana looked like Christmas had come early and giggled the most as she witnessed her parents sharing a joyful kiss. Harry couldn't help but grin as he watched Arthur and the knights thump their old friend on the back. This future was so different from the one he'd helped to prevent; he thought of King Merlin's sorrowful countenance and the horrible future he had had to live in without his loved ones. It was such a drastic contrast to the warlock who was laughing and celebrating in the revelation that his family would be gaining another precious individual.

The Auror folded his arms and thought of Ginny. Perhaps they should start trying soon themselves…

A smile spread across his face. One thing he knew, everything would be okay now. The past had been fixed and Albion had been saved. By stopping Mordred, he, Ron, and Hermione had secured their children's future as well as Merlin and Arthur's.

They had won.

[][][]

The trial of Mordred Vlahos was held a week after he'd been captured and taken to Azkaban. The entire Wizengamot as well as the Camelotians took part, Harry, Ron, and Hermione providing key witnesses to Mordred's crimes by sharing their memories in a Pensive. Mordred denied nothing, keeping his vigil that he was acting in the best interests of their kind and that Merlin was a traitor and King Arthur a fool for trying to expose them to the muggle world.

But the catalyst of the whole event had been when the Triple Goddess herself decided to show up in the courtroom.

The present witches and wizards were struck with disbelief when her identity was made known. Only a select few of the Camelotians had seen the goddess since the days of the Old Religion. Merlin bowed respectfully to her and the Maiden permitted him to rise.

"My Emrys," she smiled, her eyes soft with love, "Albion's dawn in this time is speedily approaching thanks to you and the Future King's efforts. Because of this, my presence will once again be known in the realms of men."

"I never thought I'd see you in the Ministry of Magic," Merlin chuckled, glancing at the still-shocked Wizengamot.

The goddess wrinkled her nose. "It hasn't exactly been an establishment I have desired to visit in the past, truth be told; when the witches and wizards of the modern age refuse to respect you, you tend to leave them to their own devices. But your return to their world has sparked a desire to once again understand the Old ways and with that I can work more with those who have been blessed with magic.

"Now, to other matters. I am here to settle the matter of Mordred's fate."

The goddess walked around to face the ex-druid who was still bound in her chains. He kept his eyes averted from her gaze but he did have enough tact to respectfully acknowledge her.

"My lady," he murmured, inclining his head.

The goddess's eyes filled with sorrow. "You believed yourself to be Arthur's bane, Mordred, but I fear that you misunderstood the prophecies of old. Your destiny to wound the king was meant to be the stepping stone that would secure Albion's future. You played your part and were given a second chance because of it but you abused the gift of second life. I now come to pronounce your fate. For your attempt to destroy the rebirth of Albion – and the lives of those connected to it – you are hereby stripped of your magic and will live the rest of your days in the wizard prison Azkaban."

The Wizengamot froze in terror, their eyes filling with shock that such a fate had been given. Never before had they seen someone lose their magic; Arthur had suggested this punishment for Rodolphus Lestrange but Merlin had shot it down, saying that while he was capable of taking magic from others, he didn't do so unless instructed by the Old Religion. Well, the Triple Goddess was staring expectantly at the warlock now and it was with great sorrow that Merlin walked forward to perform the deed.

"You're allowing _him_ to do it?" Mordred snarled, for the first time looking up into the goddess's face. "Why not take it from me yourself? You are a _goddess!_ Surely you can handle this without getting _him_ involved. Or does he simply do the dirty work so your lily-white hands will not be soiled? _Pitiful_ – I don't know why anyone would ever worship –"

But his voice was stolen from him as Merlin's eyes glowed.

"Do not question the Triple Goddess in such a disrespectful manner," he commanded, his voice quiet but filled with authority. "Your sentence has been given and it is my duty to carry it out."

He paused, staring down at the man who used to be nothing but a terrified little boy, crying out for help in Camelot's inner courtyard. Sorrowing that his choices had led him to this unfortunate moment, Merlin reluctantly stretched out his palm.

" _ **Incer feorhgiefu áweorpan be bearn sylfum sé eorðbígenga, géosceaft ealdgewyrht areht. Ádón sé drýcræft fram sé sáwol."**_

Mordred's hatred twisted into terror as the magic did its work. A small ball of light appeared directly over the ex-druid's heart. First the size of a speck of dust, it grew until its mass resembled a Quaffle, the white and black surface swirling about as if it were alive. Mordred's entire frame shook violently until the growth of light ceased. Merlin's outstretched hand tightened into a fist and he yanked his arm backward, the ball of light flying towards him as if attached to an invisible chain. He opened his palm again to catch it, his fingers wrapping around the tainted essence and turning it over so it rested in his hand. Letting out a weary sigh, he placed his other hand over the top of it and forced his palms together. The swirling mass simply faded away under the pressure until nothing remained. Upon its depletion, the master it once belonged to fell to the ground, unconscious. A startled gasp filled the room and Merlin turned away from Mordred, clearly torn from having to inflict such a punishment; he didn't feel that any deserved such a fate.

The Triple Goddess disappeared the moment the task was complete, leaving the warlock to face the Wizengamot alone.

"It is done," he stated. "Have the Aurors take him back to Azkaban. This council is dismissed."

Merlin walked over to Arthur, the king's expression reflecting his inner sorrow. The knights, Morgana, and Gwen also looked heartbroken; to each of them, Mordred had been a friend at some point. It hurt, seeing one they once so dearly loved reduced to the bitter soul he had become. Freya left her seat and wrapped her arms around her husband. Merlin accepted the comfort gratefully.

Arthur rested his hand on his shoulder. "Let's go home."

Merlin nodded. The others quickly formed a circle around them and Merlin channeled them away before the first row of the Wizengamot had even left their seats. The second they were back behind the safe walls of Hogwarts, Merlin sought solitude. The others left him alone – well, all except a certain king. Arthur soon fell in step beside him, the two not having to share a word to know where they were going. Reaching the door to his tower, Merlin sighed in relief at the familiar and comforting space. He wandered over to a thick armchair and sat down, resting his head in his hands.

Arthur's palm settled over the warlock's black tendrils.

"I know you didn't want to do it, Merlin."

"I've only done it once before, Arthur," he whispered, his eyes still closed as his heart ached. "The only thing I can compare it to is experiencing the death of a loved one. I do not wish for anyone to feel this way. The pain is so great."

Arthur knelt down and wrapped his arms around his old friend. "I'm sorry," he murmured as Merlin returned the embrace. "I forgot how much pain you experienced the last time. I never would have suggested taking away Rodolphus Lestrange's magic if I had remembered. Forgive me, Merlin."

The warlock sighed. "It's alright." Arthur withdrew and took the seat opposite him. "I pitied him in the past but I pity him more now. To take one's magic is to take part of their soul. The Old Religion has bestowed Mordred a fate almost as dreadful as the Dementor's Kiss."

"His choices brought about this consequence," Arthur sighed. "We can only hope no more suffer such a fate. I don't like watching you struggle with emotional issues. If I remember right, this magic removing sentence left you so distraught in the past that it took six months before I saw you smile again. You're not going to let that happen this time, are you?"

Merlin shook his head, proving it by sending him a tiny grin. "I have a lot more to be happy about now, prat. For one, I'm no longer immortal, and for another, I'm going to be a father for a second time!"

"And you have me and the others back in your life."

"Oh… right – should I really be happy about that though? I mean, I love seeing the others again but you were definitely a handful in the past; I don't know if having you back is a blessing."

"Oh, shut up," the king retorted, playfully throwing the pillow beside him into Merlin's face.

The warlock allowed the projectile to hit. After sharing a laugh, he stared happily at his Future King, silently grateful that, after everything they'd been through, they could now experience the joy of growing old together with those they loved.

"Thank you, Arthur," he muttered.

The king grinned. "Any time, old friend."

* * *

[][][]

EPILOGUE

[][][]

* * *

Hogwarts' hospital wing had been closed down, any students in need of care sent to another temporary clinic set up near the Great Hall. Every bed in the hospital wing remained unoccupied except for two, the mattresses having been pushed so close together that only a sliver of distance remained and that was only because the bed frames prevented them from touching. Candles flickered softly in the vast expanse, casting the humble setting in a bittersweet glow.

Every joint in Merlin's body ached as he shifted a little so he could get a better view of the man resting next to him on the bed that had been shoved very close to his own. Skin now white and paper thin, with lines of wisdom and extended life carved deeply into his features, Arthur Pendragon's blue eyes locked on to his, filled with love and triumph. A mental nudge came from the king and Merlin opened the link immediately.

 _It's nearly time – for me that is._

Merlin's eyes filled with amusement. _You're not leaving without me this time, prat._

Arthur smirked. _What if I did? Are you going to haunt me in the afterlife?_

 _I'm considering it._

Arthur turned, looking at their sorrowful audience. _I hate to leave them though._

Merlin agreed _. It will be hard but we both know they'll be fine. We're leaving behind quite a legacy, aren't we?_

 _Indeed_ , Arthur smiled.

"Dad, you two are doing it again," Alexander sighed, holding Oriana's hand.

"Sorry," Arthur croaked.

"Hurts to talk," Merlin added, his voice incredibly hoarse.

Oriana's eyes filled with tears. "I know, Dad, but we _want_ to hear you."

"Yeah," Balinor, Merlin's son, agreed. His arm was wrapped around his wife, Vivenne; Gwaine and Morgana's daughter and only child. "This might be the last time…" He broke off and sniffled, wiping his eyes.

Merlin smiled at his son and Arthur chuckled. "He definitely takes after you, Merlin; girl's petticoat and all."

"At least he's not foolish to think that 'no man is worth his tears'," Merlin quipped back.

Arthur grinned.

"Idiot."

The warlock smirked.

"Prat."

Their banter was interrupted as a woman's hand wrapped around Arthur's ancient fingers. "Do you really have to go, grandpa?"

The king turned away from Merlin to send his eldest granddaughter a comforting smile.

"I'm afraid so, Lucy. You'll take care of your brother and sister and your parents when I'm gone, won't you?"

Lucy nodded, her long blonde curls bouncing lightly about her slightly tanned face.

"I will."

She then leaned forward and kissed Arthur's cheek before moving aside so her brother, Patrick, and her sister, Hailey, could say their goodbyes.

"You have two grandpas you know," Merlin grumbled due to the lack of attention.

Lucy grinned. "We know, Grandpa Merlin. Though I don't know why Dave and William haven't showered you with affection yet. They've had this whole time to do so."

Balinor and Vivenne's sons glared at their cousin before blushing.

"Sorry, Grandpa Merlin," William, the older of the two, muttered while Dave shuffled his feet.

Merlin smiled. "That's alright, boys; I understand."

Saying goodbye was never an easy thing, especially when you knew what was coming.

Hailey was the first to run around the beds to give Merlin a hug, her arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed his bearded face.

"I love you, grandpa," she muttered, her twelve year old eyes filled with sorrow and acceptance. "Say hi to grandma for me?"

"Of course," Merlin promised, ruffling her hair.

Patrick shuffled forward next and took his grandfather's withered hand.

"I'll miss you so much," he muttered. "I'm sorry I couldn't carry on your legacy."

Patrick was the only one out of the five grandchildren that had not inherited some form of magic. The teenager had been heartbroken when he received the letter for muggles who were to attend Hogwarts but Merlin had assured his grandson that he didn't love him any less while Arthur reminded him that he didn't have magic either and was just as strong and formidable as Merlin could be with the sword and spoken word.

Merlin squeezed Patrick's hand with the little strength he could summon.

"Patrick, you carry on my legacy without using magic."

"It's true," Arthur weakly laughed. "You inherited his impudence."

"As well as yours," Oriana sighed.

"Though some of Merlin's transferred to William," Vivenne pointed out.

It was common knowledge that William and Patrick were practically shadows of their grandfathers when it came to sharing insults and Arthur and Merlin couldn't be more proud. Dave was more like Freya, soft and sweet, while Lucy and Hailey had a thirst for adventure that often led to them meddling in things that they shouldn't. They reminded Merlin of a certain trio of friends that just so happened to be standing a little further away from the gathered family, bidding their time to say goodbye.

After the grandchildren had expressed their love, Merlin and Arthur asked to have a brief visit with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The families shuffled off to the side, hovering close, but providing enough room for the trio to stand at the edge of the beds. Merlin marveled at how old they were now, remembering their young faces as if it were only yesterday that he was helping them hunt down Voldemort's horcruxes.

"Wow, time flies," he murmured. "You three are ancient."

"Speak for yourself," Harry chuckled, now in his early sixties, his gray hair still sticking up in all directions.

"Yeah, now you look how you're supposed to," Ron said with a playful smirk.

He'd lost most of his hair but there was still some red mixed in with the gray and his freckles still dominated most of his face.

"I resent that," Arthur replied. "I've never been known to reach past the age of fifty in all our legends. Merlin though; you're right, Ron, his outward appearance now reflects his soul."

"Laugh at me all you want," Merlin grinned, "but naturally growing old is something I've been looking forward to for centuries."

"And it suits you well," Hermione smiled, her bushy hair now streaked with gray.

"Thank you, Hermione," said Merlin. "Still Minister of Magic, I see."

Hermione nodded. "I don't think they're going to replace me until I either die or force them to let me retire."

"Please, you love the job too much to give it up and you know it," Ron grinned, kissing his wife's cheek.

"Yes except for when I have to harp on Harry to do his job," she sighed.

"Hey, I handle things a lot better than I used to," Harry defended. "There was a lot going on in those first couple of years after the promotion."

"Don't remind me," Hermione shuddered. "I still have nightmares sometimes of that fiasco involving Voldemort and Bellatrix's daughter."

"Glad we chose to stay out of that one," Arthur muttered to Merlin. "We were too busy as it was, taking care of Albion matters."

"Yeah," Merlin sighed, his eyes starting to droop.

Why did he suddenly feel so lightheaded?

"Merlin?"

" _Merlin!"_

The old warlock opened his eyes, a rattling breath filling his lungs.

"I'm dying first, remember?" Arthur snapped, weakly slapping his hand.

"I never… agreed to that," Merlin mumbled. He was so tired; he just wanted to sleep. "I've been alive… this whole time… you prat. If anyone… deserves to leave first… it's _me!"_

"Whatever," Arthur whispered between uneven breaths. "You can say that… all you want… but I'm still the king… and I'll tell you when it's your time to die."

Merlin rolled his eyes and looked around at the trio as well as their posterity; they'd rushed back to their bedsides the moment he'd begun to fade.

"Can you… believe him? Impossible… prat…"

Arthur let out a feeble chuckle. "That's right… insufferable idiot…"

"My, my, my, look at the two of you. I never thought I'd see the day when the mighty idiot king and his pesky warlock would be ready to give up the ghost."

Merlin's eyes flew open and he immediately bolted upright. His eyes filled with wonder and inexpressible joy, for standing right at his bedside, having appeared out of nowhere, was –

"Well, if it isn't fickle feathers!" Arthur said, a grin on his face. "I'd hoped to never have to see you again."

"I shared the same sentiment but my job requires me to fetch your sorry hide to take you back to Avalon," Archimedes replied, his amber eyes glittering with inner happiness.

"How kind of you."

"Shall we go then?" Archimedes asked.

Arthur and Merlin stared at each other and gasped. The warlock could hardly believe his eyes. Arthur was sitting straight up, his face no longer burdened with the toll of age but filled with the life he held when in his prime. He was exactly as Merlin remembered him during the golden years of Camelot hundreds of years ago – he was even wearing his chainmail. And, if Arthur's expression was anything to go by, he too had de-aged back to his thirty two year old self. Merlin looked down to examine his hands but then discovered another surprise: while they were indeed youthful, they were also _see-through_. So was the rest of his body. In fact, he seemed to be sitting on someone and when he looked around it was to see the most bizarre sight: his old, decrepit body lying on the hospital bed.

"We died!" Arthur exclaimed, having discovered the same thing at the same time.

"Well done," Archimedes sneered, "your observation skills have definitely improved over the years, idiot king."

"Shut up, fickle feathers!" Arthur snapped, leaping from his bed to move away from his old, dead body.

He walked somewhat through his weeping posterity over to Merlin who still sat staring at the remains of who he used to be.

"Merlin?"

The warlock's spirit turned to look at Arthur in wonder and joy.

"I died," he whispered, his face spreading into the largest smile the king had ever seen. "I _died_ , Arthur!"

He then leapt from his bed and threw his arms around his sovereign's neck before releasing him to hug Archimedes, the young man smiling tenderly as he patted the warlock a few times on the back.

"Welcome to the other side," Archimedes chuckled. "Now, before I lead the two of you into Avalon, there's something you need to know."

Merlin and Arthur shared a glance, suddenly feeling nervous.

"What is it?" the former asked.

"Your destiny makes this a rather unique situation," Archimedes sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"But I thought we completed our destinies," said Arthur, confused.

"Oh, you did, but the world is full of plenty of dunderheads that are eventually going to destroy everything you've done," Archimedes muttered. "What I'm getting at is, your destinies are to restore magic and unite the lands under one rule, correct?"

"Yes," they said at the same time.

"So, since people can be quite stupid, you two are going to have to go back to the world of the living several times to clean up the mess until this world comes to an end."

" _What?!"_ Merlin and Arthur cried in horror before the latter added, "But that's not fair!"

Archimedes shrugged. "Sorry to break it to you but your destinies are tied in with the fabrics of this world. When it needs you to restore the balance between the magical and nonmagical communities, you'll be reborn. You'll fix the issue and then, when it's time for you to die, I'll show up to take you back to Avalon. Don't worry; your loved ones will always be there waiting for you – as they are right now."

"But we won't have them with us from now on whenever we have to be reborn?" Merlin guessed with a heavy scowl.

"I'm afraid not," Archimedes admitted, "Unless something happens to alter that decision. I'm sorry, Merlin. That's just the way it has to be."

"Merlin, you know how you said all those years ago that you're a servant of the Old Religion?" said Arthur.

"Yeah?"

"Now I know how you feel," the king groused. "It's horrible."

Merlin stared at Arthur a moment and then laughed. Wrapping an arm around him, he comforted, "You'll get used to it, Arthur. You're stuck with me forever, I'm afraid. If I have to serve it, so do you. Besides, who knows? Being reborn every once in a while could be fun."

Arthur stared at him in disbelief. "Sometimes I really think there is something seriously wrong with you."

"Stop being such a wet blanket, Arthur."

The king's face morphed from disbelief into a look of outrage.

"What did you just call me?"

"A supercilious, dollopheaded, condescending, egotistical wet blanket," Merlin deadpanned. "Though I think your best title is still King Prat."

From the look on Arthur's face, Merlin knew he had about two seconds to make a run for it. Without waiting for Archimedes to take him through the doorway to Avalon, the warlock sprinted right through it.

"MERLIN! GET BACK HERE, YOU CLUMSY IDIOT!" Arthur bellowed, chasing after him.

Emrys ignored the Once and Future King's demand, pelting across the evergreen grass and wide open country of Avalon. Thirty feet away, their welcoming party -consisting of everyone they loved who had gone before them- watched the chase with amusement and large smiles.

"Well, there they are," Gwaine laughed, squeezing Morgana's hand.

Gwen chuckled, her eyes bright with love for the man she'd been waiting to see again for what felt like an age. "Some things never change."

Freya stood beside her, her smile as warm as the sun.

"And they never will," she muttered.

Avalon seemed to brighten as the sound of Merlin's laughter filled the air, Arthur finally having tackled him to the ground. After playfully ruffling the warlock's hair, the two of them stood and looked around.

Arthur then threw an arm over Merlin's shoulder and grinned.

"Welcome to Avalon, old friend."

Merlin's eyes filled with tears of joy as he finally noticed his friends and family in the distance, all of them waving cheerfully and calling their names. He glanced at Arthur, his brother and king, and beamed. Honestly, the revelation of rebirth wasn't so bad if he always got to return to this. Nudging Arthur in the side, he tilted his head and the two of them shared a grin before running off to reunite with their loved ones.

Meanwhile, in the world of the living, new prophecies began to fall from the lips of renowned seers of a King and his Warlock who would always return when the world was about to be covered in shadow.

For when Albion's need was greatest, they would always rise again.

THE END

* * *

 **Wow, I can't believe this is the end for this little series of mine. I have had this epilogue in my head ever since I started writing Loss and Light. I can't tell you how happy I am with it and that I can finally share it with all of you! Please leave me one last review for this story, sharing your thoughts. Thanks for sticking with me, guys. I hope to hear from you all again in another story (Perhaps my other Harry Potter/ Merlin crossover, The Sorcerer's Stone). If you have any questions about anything that might not have made it into this story that you're wondering about, send me a PM and I'll be happy to answer them! Happy writing and reading! And may Merlin and Harry Potter live on forever! :) - Pumpkinmoose22**

 **Spell meaning** : Second gift of life rejected by child of the earth, fate has spoken. Remove the magic from the soul.


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